When I Smile Again
by ChishionoTenshi
Summary: Severus Snape's daughter, raised by Voldemort comes to Hogwarts. How will he recieve her? And what exactly is she, anyway? COMPLETE!
1. Disclaimer and Author's Note

Disclaimer: I in no way own the rights to Harry Potter. They belong to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers(somehow). Millicent, Lana, Ravena, and any other non-original character belongs to myself. Two of my friends also make cameo appearances; if you can spot them, hurrah for you!

Author's Note:

This story is a bit old, and I have finally come back and finished it. It's over! There is NO sex in this, so if you're looking for Snape/Remus, you'll be disappointed. You'll find out later why Remus is the second important character.

Finally, there IS violence toward children in this story. I am not in favor of it, and I try to write it in a way that shows this. There is also cutting later. I do not agree with cutting, but I understand the reasons behind it.

Now, I'm sure you're all dreadfully bored, so ON WITH THE STORY!


	2. Past and Present

"Please sit, Severus." Albus frowned at the young man before him. He had taken this boy in as a spy when he had confessed to all his transgressions, when his beloved Ravena had been threatened by the Dark Lord. Severus had seemed cleansed then. Now he was twitchy, anxious, and pacing.

"I can't. He's up to something. Something big. Dangerous. . . at least, for the Order, I'm sure." Severus paced with increased agitation. It was most irksome.

"Sit. Tell me what you know."

"Nothing. The circle has been left out of his plans. But, I think you had best all start looking to your security. I think the Order has been penetrated."

"Indeed." Albus frowned more deeply. The young man just would not sit down. "Severus, is there something else that bothers you?"

"He must suspect. Why else leave the circle out of his plans?"

"Really Severus. The man is simply mad with power and would give no one else an in on such an advantage. You know he has been this way before."

"Yes but. . ."

"But nothing, Severus. Sit down." Of course he would not. That would be giving Albus something he wanted.

"I fear it is over. For the Order. You know he has heard that. . . prophecy." The sneer was unmistakable.

"Yes, we all have at this point. But I doubt we will have to worry about it much longer. He will try to attack someone, and then we shall have him. For he shall be defeated, and soon. Now Severus, please do have a seat."

"I can't, sir. I am overdue to check up on Ravena and Patrick."

"Ah yes, and little Millicent too, if I'm not mistaken." He stiffened, exactly as Albus suspected he would. "Calm yourself Severus. I doubt he even knows she exists, let alone that she is yours."

"If I had it my way, no one would."

"Naturally, my dear boy, naturally. Well, I suppose you should be on your way. Of course, they live completely muggle now, do they not? It will keep them below his senses."

"For now," muttered the boy, exactly as Albus knew he would. Such a predictable young man, trying to bury himself in dark tragedy when he had hardly brushed the surface of suffering. It was almost endearing. Almost.

"Then go along my boy. Don't forget to not be seen."

Then boy did not dignify this with a response. He swept off down the stairs. Albus clucked his tongue at Fawkes. That would work better when he had a little more weight on him, truthfully.

"Well, Fawkes, I've done all I can. If all goes well, history shall be made tonight. Oh yes, a great story there will be to be told tomorrow, no doubt. Now, let us make sure that everything is in place. Voldemort shall be vanquished for the time being, and the Death Eaters caught. All shall be as it should."

Fawkes grumped at him. Well there was no use trying to explain his cunning to a molting Phoenix. What could he understand anyway? Only one third of his life was spent truly comprehensible. The other two thirds of the time he was either too young to understand or too crotchety to care. Immortality was nothing much, when you got right down to it.

Popping a lemon drop into his mouth (were there no candies that muggles simply did better?), he left his office to make sure the students were behaving themselves at lunch. They really were not any trouble, not even the Slytherins, but who would expect that of the children of a dark war that left no one untouched. Fame would soon come back to these halls, and he could bask in that glory a little bit soon enough.

~Ten years later~

"Well, I'm here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away. It's not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave to me: you, you, you- Ought to know!"

A small girl sat on her knees on a red stool. In one hand was a styrofoam plate with paints mixed on it, and in the other was a paintbrush. She was applying paint to a picture on her wall, meticulously paying attention to detail. A small smile touched her thin pink lips. She put the brush and plate aside, and pulled back her aqua-colored hair.

She had no real understanding as to why it was that color, but supposedly it had something to do with a potions accident that had left her mother with green hair. Genetics supposedly did the rest. Well, that and magic. But of course, magic was something she was not supposed to try to toy with without permission. Lucius had his ways of making her behave. Her father would allow a certain amount of punishment to be bestowed upon, most especially when she was having fun.

So she kept he enjoyment to herself as best she could, and hid her fears as well, lest that bring down more punishment. Only obedience was tolerated. She would do as she was told, or she would be punished, by her own hand as well as that of others. Life was pain, disappointment and suffering. There was no hope of anything else.

"Millicent, what are you doing in there?"

"Painting," the girl called, scrambling down from the stool. A tall, imposing man with blonde hair entered the room. Lucius had a sneer on his face. He looked at her painting.

"Worthless, as are almost all your endeavors. The master wants to see you at once."

"I must wash my hands."

"When the master calls, you come," Lucius snarled, grabbing Millicent by the arm and dragging her to another room.

"Lucius! You go too far with her. Release her arm!" Lucius paled and released Millicent instantly. She ran to her father for comfort. He received her as he always did. He accepted her little signs of affection, but gave her none of his own.

"I will decide the punishments here. Millicent knows she will punish herself. For now, we have something for you, child."

"Truly? For me?" Millicent looked at her father in awe. He had never given her anything she did not know she had coming to her. Right now he _seemed_ pleased, but she knew that would not last.

"Yes. Hold out your hand. Lucius, give her the letter," Voldemort ordered. Lucius handed her the envelope.

"Open it," Voldemort ordered Millicent. She examined the cream envelope quickly, and then broke the seal on the back. The letter inside read:

Dear Miss Millicent Ri,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. We hope to see you at the beginning of the year, September 1st.

Professor Minevra McGonagall

__

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandos

"Am I allowed to go?" Millicent dared to ask. She had never set foot outside of the house her father kept her in, although she had learned much about the world from tutors. Of course they were all dead by summer- no one lasted long in Voldemort's power.

"On one condition. You must do something for me, when you are there. Do not ask what it is; you will learn that only if you accept."

"If I do, then I can go?" She was pushing her luck, repeating herself like this. She winced to herself at her stupid question.

"Yes, you will go." Millicent pondered Voldemort's offer. She had never been anywhere outside of this house, except for Draco's room. How she wished she could go! It would be a small price to pay for freedom, would it not? There was no telling what he would ask of her, but oh! to be outside, with other people. . .

"I will do as you order," she told Voldemort.

"Good. Here is what I shall do. I will have someone take you to Diagon Alley to get your wand and robes. When you come back I will teach you a spell. The spell will be very important, and I will tell you why when you start learning it."

"Thank you so much!" Millicent risked trying his patience by hugging him again, but Voldemort had an odd smile on his face.

"Yes, you will thank me. Now, finish your painting. I'm sure I will want to see it when you are done."


	3. Draco's Crush

A/N: Here this is all for you Kasey, my first reviewer!  
  
"Here, young lady, try this one." Olivander handed Millicent a wand, watching the wand for reactions. He shook his head.  
  
"Try this, Unicorn hair, Willow, ten inches." It worked all right, and Olivander nodded. "Yes, yes, that is the wand for you, Miss Ri."  
  
"Thank you very much," Millicent said, remembering her manners. Not that she had ever forgotten them. If nothing else, she knew her place.  
  
"You are welcome Miss Ri. Use your wand wisely."  
  
"I will," Millicent promised. Draco Malfoy snorted, and handed over the Galleons. Millicent cocked her head at him, but said nothing.  
  
"Come on, I'll show you what I'm getting this year," Draco said, dragging Millicent along. She acquiesced hopelessly. He pulled her over to a window to look at, of all things, a broom.  
  
"Draco, not to sound rude, but that is a broom."  
  
"It's not just a broom, it's the Nimbus Two Thousand One. I'd ask dad to get you one, but I don't think he would." Draco shrugged. Millicent looked at Draco, with a question in her mind. She clamped down on it firmly.  
  
"Draco, if she is done with her wand, then it is past time to go," Lucius snapped. At least Millicent knew he hated her.  
  
"She's done," Draco affirmed reluctantly. Lucius grabbed Millicent by the arm and yanked her with him. She struggled to keep up while being practically lifted from her feet. It was Draco who saved her.  
  
"Father, wouldn't the master be angry if you brought her home with bruises?" Lucius released her, and snapped at Draco,  
  
"If you can think of a better way to get her to walk, then do it!"  
  
"Come on, Millicent. We'll be back so you can do more painting if you hurry." Draco extended his hand, and Millicent took it willingly.  
  
When they were out of Diagon Alley, and back at the entrance, Lucius took Draco's hand and disapparated them back to near the house where Millicent had grown up. The trek was not more than five minutes, but Lucius muttered angrily about being a child-sitter the entire way. Draco and Millicent felt disinclined to talk, yet Draco never let go of Millicent's hand. When Lucius stepped on the porch, Draco leaned over and kissed Millicent's cheek.  
  
"See you in school," he whispered.  
  
"Millicent, your father wants to see you," Lucius snapped. Millicent was not sure if he had seen the kiss, but she was sure he would not approve. She hurried inside to her father's room.  
  
"Aah, back already? And with your wand? Good. Now we shall practice the spell. Repeat after me, but do not wave your wand: Avada Kedavra."  
  
"Avada Kedavra."  
  
"Excellent. Now, wave your wand at the spider on the wall and say those words." Millicent was not certain about the order, but she had no wish to be beaten for defiance. She pointed her wand at the spider.  
  
i"Avada Kedavra!"/i Millicent intoned. The spider curled up into a ball, just as all spiders do when they die. Millicent's aqua eyes widened in horror.  
  
"Excellent, Millicent. I always knew you would do well."  
  
"But-but why would you want me to learn this?" Millicent asked in horror.  
  
"Because you are going to use this curse on Harry Potter. And if you do not," Voldemort continued, over-running her protests, "I will kill you both myself."  
  
Millicent went cold inside. She knew very well that Voldemort would not hesitate to kill her. Most of all, she felt sorry for Harry Potter. If Voldemort hated him enough to use Millicent to do it, then surely he must hate Harry more than Lucius hated her.  
  
~On the train to Hogwarts~  
  
"Do you want some garlic bread?" Draco asked Millicent, offering her some. Millicent took the bread from him with trepidation. She knew that garlic bread was most likely just fine, but she had never really eaten anything fancy.  
  
"It won't kill you," Crabbe snapped in irritation as Millicent sniffed the bread hesitantly.  
  
"Shut up," Draco told him. "It is just fine, Millicent. Just try it."  
  
"I am," Millicent assured Draco. She took a small bite. The bread was good, as he had promised. She ate her piece down slowly, making sure to savor each bite. She looked up when she was done.  
  
"Does the little girl want more?" Goyle asked.  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
"Then get it," Goyle said, holding the piece just out of her reach.  
  
"Knock it off, you two," Draco said, taking the piece of bread and handing it to Millicent. "You can have as much food here as you like for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Don't be shy about taking food, either, or they'll know something is different about you."  
  
"But, will I be taking classes with you?"  
  
"I don't think so. Every kid has a chance to be part of one of four houses. I don't think you are Slytherin material. You're more likely to be a Gryffindor. That's the same house as Harry Potter."  
  
"Oh." Millicent looked out the window. Draco came over and sat with her. Millicent wondered why Draco liked her so much. No one else ever had. Not even her father, that Millicent knew for certain.   
  
Crabbe and Goyle were trying to impress Malfoy with something. He shrugged their attempts off, and asked Millicent,  
  
"What about you, Millicent? You ever get in a scrape with anyone?"  
  
"Once."  
  
"Well, what happened? Come on, you can tell us," Malfoy insisted. Millicent gave in reluctantly.  
  
"You remember Father always made me have tutors? Once there was a man who wanted me to do him favors. I refused for a bit. Father told me I should do what he asked. So, I did exactly as he asked. Two days later, Father found him dead in his room."  
  
"You killed him?" Goyle choked out.  
  
"I gave him rope and a chair. There are not any other furnishings in the tutor room."  
  
"But you said you got into a scrape."  
  
"Well, yes. I was in quite a bit of trouble with Father for giving him my chair."  
  
"That's not a scrape!" protested Crabbe, but Malfoy silenced him.  
  
"Is that when I met you?"  
  
"Just a bit after," Millicent affirmed. Malfoy gave her a concerned glance.  
  
"Did the marks ever go away?"  
  
"I cannot see. I think so," Millicent said with a shrug. Draco's affection made her nervous. What would Lucius do if he found out? She saw Crabbe and Goyle exchanged troubled looks.  
  
The train was slowing down. Millicent peered out the window into the darkness. She turned back to Malfoy and his two cohorts. They were shrugging into their Hogwarts robes. She had put her robe on when they had gotten on the train. She was still cold.  
  
"Come on, Millicent. We'll show you out. Then follow Hagrid. he'll take you on the boats."  
  
"I am not coming with you?" Millicent asked as Malfoy led her out of the train.  
  
"No, you have to be sorted. And don't let anyone tell you sorting is dangerous. It isn't. See, there's Hagrid. I'll see you after you're sorted." Malfoy pushed her to Hagrid. She looked with wide eyes up to the giant of a man with wild hair. He grinned down at her.  
  
"Hello. Firs' year, are ye? Just wait here." When all the first year students had gathered, he gave them instructions, "Not too many to a boat. No need to steer, the boat knows the way. And keep to yer seats. Everyone ready? Right then!"  
  
Millicent found herself in a boat with Hagrid. She could see all the boats with their lanterns making their way across the lake. It was a beautiful sight, but in her heart Millicent was very frightened. The sorting ceremony worried her most. Everyone implied that somehow they could look into your mind. If that was so, someone was bound to find out what Voldemort had told her to do.  
  
When they were dragged into the Great Hall, Millicent felt as if she were quite on display. Several of the children pointed at her. Draco was one of them, she was relieved to note. When the Sorting Hat was brought out and performed its little song and dance, Millicent relaxed a bit. Still, she could not help but wonder what the Hat would say of her. All too soon, she found out.  
  
"Millicent Ri," Professor McGonagall called. Millicent noticed a few of the teachers, including the Headmaster, sit forward and watch her intently. She climbed the steps with no small amount of trepidation.  
  
i"Ah, Millicent, at last. I've been waiting to see how you've turned out. What a brilliant mind, but very shy. . . Hmm, courage in here too. And stubborn. Ahh, you're quite a puzzle. Let's see. . . I know! GRYFFINDOR!"/i  
  
Millicent was surprised when the hat was lifted from her head at the reception she recieved. She had never been clapped for, and she ducked her head as she went to join the Gryffindor table. A smiling red-headed boy greeted her with enthusiasm,  
  
"You're going to like it here. The hat sure thought you'd do good here. Sorted you faster than anyone I've ever seen, except maybe a Slytherin."  
  
"Thank you," Millicent said to the tablecloth. Somehow, she just could not be happy. About any of this. 


	4. Darkest Day

A/N: Okay, this will be a hard chapter to read for some of you, and I fully anticipate flames to warm up this cold house. If you read it, review. And MerlinHalliwell, she is joining during Harry 2nd year, but some of that will be better explained later. Or not, depends on what survives my editing sprees!  
  
Chapter 3: Darkest Day  
Millicent hurried out of her Transfiguration class. She had to hurry not to be late to Potions. She was doing exceptionally well, as all of her teachers seemed inclined to point out to the class. In the last ten days, Millicent had refused to make friends, and buried herself in her books. Her heart was heavy every time she realized that she could not put off the inevitable.  
  
"Harry Potter must die!" Voldemort had shrieked at her before she left. Millicent buried her face deeper into her books. She did not want to do that. She had never even wanted to help her tutor suicide. Still, was it not better than letting Voldemort kill Harry slowly?  
  
"Oof!" Millicent landed on the floor, after smacking into something soft. Her eyes widened in horror, and she scrambled to her feet.  
  
"I am sorry, I am sorry! I should have been paying attention. I am so sorry!"  
  
"It's all right. No harm done. You're Millicent, aren't you? Hagrid says you're very smart. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."  
  
"O-oh. Uhm. . . Hello," Millicent said, horrified.  
  
"Are you all right?" Harry asked. Millicent knew she no longer had a choice. She made a split second decision.  
  
"Can we talk alone for a moment? I am worried that Lockhart will try to make something of this."  
  
"Sure," Harry agreed, stepping under a stairway. Millicent pointed her wand at Harry.   
  
"I am really sorry about this Harry, but, knowing Voldemort, I do think you will be happier this way."   
  
Harry could only think, "And I was always worried about Voldemort."  
  
"Avada Kedavra!" Harry collapsed to the ground. Millicent snapped her wand in half, thrusting it from herself. She ran away, tears racing down her cheeks.  
  
"I just killed someone," her mind repeated over and over. Her feet led her out to the Dark Forest, the meeting place Voldemort had drilled into her mind. Millicent flung herself onto a stump and cried. Unlike most others, her sobs were silent.  
  
"It isn't safe for students to be out in the woods alone, Millicent." Voldemort slid into view. Millicent raised her frightened face to him.  
  
"You told me to meet you here," Millicent said, watching him closely. He was up to something, and it could not be good for her. She wiped away the traces of tears from her face hastily.  
  
"Ah, but no one shall ever know that if you are dead. And dead you shall be. There are wolves in these forests, after all. Hungry, murderous wolves."  
  
Millicent stood and scrambled back from Voldemort. A wolf, lean and obviously hungry, had appeared at his side. Millicent looked once into Voldemort's face. Then she turned and ran.  
  
It took the wolf two long bounds to catch her. The scream that escaped Millicent's lips did not relieve, as she had hoped, the intense pain shooting up her leg. She kicked with her left leg as hard as she could, but the wolf continued to maul the other leg. Millicent continued screaming, praying someone could hear. The wolf released her leg and bit her upraised arms. Seizing an advantage the wolf bit deeply into Millicent's neck. She let loose a final gurgling cry, and lay still.  
  
Blood on its muzzle, the wolf returned to Voldemort. The wolf whined. Voldemort smiled, and reached down to touch the wolf.  
  
"Good boy. I always knew I could find a use for you. Come," he ordered. He and the wolf vanished into the mist, leaving Millicent's body mangled on the forest floor.. 


	5. Will You See?

A/N: No, it is not what you think. Or maybe it is. You'll just have to read my chapter, won't you?  
  
Chapter 4: Will You See?  
"How is he, Poppy?"  
  
"We are only lucky you anticipated this, Albus. He'll live, but it was touch and go for quite some time. She is a very powerful witch, indeed."  
  
"Have we found her yet, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, turning his attention from Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"She isn't in the school, Albus. We can't seem to find her anywhere."  
  
"Get Hagrid and Severus. Send them into the Dark Woods. A more perfect meeting place for the Dark Lord and a servant of his only exists where He cannot go."  
  
"Yes Albus." McGonagall hesitated. "Albus, when we find her, if we find her, what are we going to do?"  
  
"We're going to save her, I hope. Now hurry. Every moment counts." Albus watched McGonagall. He rubbed his temples. Every passing year seemed to get more difficult.  
  
"Albus? Harry is asking for you."  
  
"Coming Poppy." Albus followed her into the hospital room. Harry was propped up on pillows in a hospital bed, the sheets tucked neatly around him. Dumbledore procured a chair and sat next to his bed.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore, have you found Millicent yet?"  
  
"As we speak, Hagrid and Professor Snape are combing the Dark Woods for her. I am certain she will be found."  
  
"Professor, do you-did she-" Harry rubbed his scar. "Will she be in trouble?"  
  
"That depends, Harry. On a great many things, I am afraid. What do you think I should do?"  
  
"She didn't want to. I know she didn't. She even told me she thought I'd be happier. I think she was right."  
  
"Ah, but the darkest deeds have been comitted with the best of intentions." Dumbledore patted Harry's head fondly. "But, I believe, as you do, that Millicent only did what she did, because she felt she had no choice. I am afraid there are some things we did not inform the students of, which we should have."  
  
"What were those?" Harry asked, his eyes getting wide.  
  
"Firstly Harry, Millicent is- or rather, was raised by Voldemort himself. Such being the case, she has every reason to believe he is her father. Voldemort is not a kind man. He is certain to have impressed upon her the importance of absolute cooperation. I am certain that he told her there would be no way to save you from ultimate demise, and convinced Millicent that you would suffer greatly if she did not perform the curse, which would be a kinder death than anything he could think of.  
  
"Millicent is not Voldemort's daughter. I would tell you who he was, but he has requested that I not disclose his name. Yes, Harry, I have known about her for quite some time. I interfered with the potential for Millicent to harm you in many ways, some subtle, other more obvious. I had Olivander sell her an inferior wand to lessen the effects of any cure she might cast on you. I did not count on her being quite so powerful, but she must have hesitated, even knowing the disaster she was bringing on herself."  
  
"Professor, he'll kill her if he finds her, won't he?" Harry asked, green eyes searching Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"Yes, Harry. Voldemort will try. But, as I said, Millicent is a quite powerful witch. There is a chance she will manage to save herself. Aha, I hear the sound of feet. I think we shall have our answer."  
  
Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house, was the one to carry Millicent in. She was, in short, a wreck. Madam Pomfrey 'tsked when she saw her condition. She went to her stores and came back with an armload of jars and bandages. After directing Snape to place Millicent on a bed, she shooed everyone out, with the exception of Harry, and Dumbledore, whom she enlisted to help her. Twenty minutes later, she declared that they would now have to wait.  
  
"And don't you go waking her and asking questions, Albus. I know your ways all too well. I mean it this time; she'll need all the rest she can get. She is in for a rough time. I haven't seen many girls her age attacked so ferociously by a wolf before."  
  
"Only one, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked. "It seems to me, she's been attacked by a whole pack."  
  
"Only one," Madam Pomfrey confirmed. "The teeth marks are all the same. Still, it is strange that it stopped."  
  
"Stopped?" Harry dared to ask from his bed, despite the fact that he looked a touch green.  
  
"Oh yes. It bit her on the throat as you can see, but not nearly hard enough to kill her. An ordinary wolf would have killed her and been eating away at her when Severus and Hagrid found her."  
  
"Then we shall count our blessings," Dumbledore declared.  
  
"Then count them from the other side of the door, Albus. My patients need rest."  
  
Thus, Madam Pomfrey unceremoniously booted Dumbledore out of the hospital wing. He was greatly relieved. Harry had only touched the surface of the uncomfortable questions. There was, for example, the question of what Dumbledore was going to do with Millicent. As Harry had told him, she had been reluctant to do what Voldemort had asked. But she had still used the curse, and the Ministry was bound to demand to know who had used it. With their feelings toward Voldemort and anyone who did his bidding, Dumbledore did not doubt that they could send her to Azkaban.  
  
"Albus, is she going to live?" Severus asked, interrupting Dumbledore's chain of thoughts. He had been waiting for Dumbledore outside the hospital wing. They walked together down the halls.  
  
"Yes, Severus. Poppy assures me that there is every possibility she will pull through. There is something that perhaps you can clear up. I am very fuzzy on the details, but from what Poppy said, the wolf should have killed her. Did you stop it?"  
  
"There was no wolf when we arrived. In fact, we think Millicent pulled herself away from the actual place where she was atacked. But," Severus paused. "It is possible she inherited her mother's wolf-tamer abilities."  
  
"Those abilities, generally, only apply to werewolves, Severus."  
  
"It is only a theory. As you have told me, she is a strong witch."  
  
"On a level with Harry himself. If I had not forced Olivander to give her a terrible wand, she would have killed half the school with that curse. She was quite distressed, and as I'm sure you know, a distressed witch can do quite a bit of damage. Which reminds me, how are the children?"  
  
"Distressed does not cover the emtional range. There are some who are downright gleeful. We have not told them yet that Harry or Millicent is alive. I was waiting for your word on that."  
  
"Tell them Harry is alive. Let Millicent remain dead to them. Is anyone distressed over her?"  
  
"She was quite. . . withdrawn. Most people distressed over her are angry at her for 'killing' Harry. But," Severus pursed his lips, "Draco Malfoy seemed to react quite uniquely. I have not seen a reaction more unsuited to his character."  
  
"He cried, then?"  
  
"You miss nothing in this school, Albus. Yes, he cried. And. . . Miss Granger seemed most upset about Millicent's 'death' as well. I believe she considered the girl a brilliant student."  
  
"Which she is," Dumbldore reminded Severus gently, as they rounded a corner. "She is a very brilliant, lonely, confused, and heartsick student. I think we shall keep the silence on Harry until dinner tonight. I have much to do. It is unlikely I shall see you until then."  
  
"Until then." Severus turned to depart from Dumbledore, but Dumbledore detained him.  
  
"Severus, I know you are extremely bitter. But Millicent is going to need you. You must decide what role you shall play in her life, and soon. It is unlikely that I can keep you a secret from her forever."  
  
"We shall see, Albus." Severus swept away, with a swirl of his black cloak.  
  
"No, Severus. I don't think you will see. Not without a small miracle," Dumbledore sighed.  
  
A/N: Okay, you can all put away those torches and disband your angry mob. Harry's alive and well. *grumbles something about how interesting this would have been otherwise* 


	6. More Questions Than Answers

A/N: No, I haven't killed anyone yet. I'll be good for now. *grumbles* Anyhow, I have yet to see comment about Snape or his behavior. 'Course if Tori reads this SHE might kill Snape. ^_^  
  
The first sensation Millicent experienced was a deep stabbing pain in her leg. This was followed by sharp little pangs in her elbows, which worked their way along her body until not even her littlest toe was exempt from the massive waves of pain. She wished nothing more than to return to oblivion, but she understood it was time to wake up.  
  
Not without some effort, Millicent forced her eyes open. She found herself staring at a stone ceiling. This did not fit with her last memory. She had been dragging herself along the ground to get away from that wolf, and her father.  
  
Her father! Millicent sat up and instantly regretted it. Her vision swam, and she had to grasp her head with her hands. Gentle, but firm hands guided her back to a more horizontal position. Someone spoke to her, but it took a moment for Millicent to grasp the concepts behind the words.  
  
". . . up yet. With all the work I've done to see you living, it wouldn't be right for you to spoil it all by knocking your head on something. "  
  
"I am sorry, but I really do not feel like living, so if it is all the same to you, I shall beat my head against the wall until it explodes, if it has not already." Millicent heard the woman laugh. She guessed, correctly, that the woman was Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse.  
  
"I think you'll be needing some of this, then, my dear." Madam Pomfrey held out a cup of hot chocolate. Millicent eyed the cup dubiously.  
  
"Two things: First, I really do not care for chocolate. Second, what else is in that?"  
  
"Dumbledore was right to call you smart. The other ingredients are a painkiller, and something to help you stay awake, for there are a great many people here who want to speak with you. And the chocolate will help soothe your poor nerves."  
  
Millicent accepted the cup. She could taste the other two ingredients, but they were masked nicely by the chocolate. Or it would have been nicely, if Millicent had any liking for chocolate. She nursed the drink, because it did make her feel better and it did keep her awake. The fog she had been drifting in drifted elsewhere for the time being.  
  
She glanced down at her arms, remembering how they had looked before she had collasped into the bush. Millicent was only slightly pleased to see they were just fine. She thought for a moment, and then asked quietly,  
  
"Might I see my legs?"  
  
"If you think you must. Your right leg is still a sad sight, but I shall have you fixed up in a day or two."  
  
"I think I must," Millicent told the nurse, who turned down the covers. A breif inspection of her leg told Millicent she really should take anatomy classes. She could not remember the names of the muscles she was growing back, but she did have a thin layer of transparent skin growing over them.  
  
"Yes, you are coming along quite nicely. I can hardly believe you have only been in here for two days."  
  
"I have been here for two days?" Millicent asked. She sounded quite rational, but inside she was trembling. Two days for her father to plot his revenge, while she was asleep, unable to tell anyone about the danger.  
  
"Yes. And while you are under my care no one is going to bother you until you are completely healed."  
  
"Madam Pomfrey, I have to talk to Professor Dumbledore right away. It is very important."  
  
"No."  
  
"But-"  
  
"You are still very weak. I do not want you over-exerting yourself."  
  
"If you do not let me talk to him, I will drag myself up to his office. And I do not care if I break every last bone in my body getting up there. It is that important."  
  
"I will get him, but you had better not over-exert yourself," Madam Pomfrey said, pressing her lips together to form a stern expression.  
  
"Thank you." Millicent waited. She let her heart pound away in her chest. There was plenty to be afraid of, and not just for herself. Voldemort. . . She shivered.  
  
"Aah, Miss Ri. I see you are awake. I have been informed there is something you wished to speak with me about."  
  
"Yes." Millicent took a deep breath, " Professor, Voldemort told me if I didn't kill Harry, he would kill us both. I am guessing that I did not kill Harry. You have to get Harry to safety."  
  
"And what makes you think he is not safe here? Has it not occured to you that there is a reason Voldemort has not stepped on Hogwarts soil? Harry is safe."  
  
"Oh," Millicent said quietly. There was another question on her mind, but she dared not ask.  
  
"As for you, Miss Ri, I am afraid I cannot tell you what your punishment will be. The Ministry has taken your case out of my hands."  
  
"Oh," Millicent said, even more softly. To her surprise Dumbledore laid a hand on her head.  
  
"Miss Ri, Mr. Potter has told me of your reluctance, and you could not actually have wanted to kill him, or else he would certainly be dead. The Death Curse is a very tempermental curse, and only those who intend it can make it work. The Ministry will surely know this."  
  
"But-"  
  
"That does not mean your actions will go unpunished, but I daresay this shall all be over within a week." Dumbledore stood. "And now, I can see Madam Pomfrey glaring at me. I daresay Miss Granger is pestering her, asking to see you."  
  
"To see me?" Millicent asked in surprise. Dumbledore chuckled.  
  
"It seems so. I expect I shall see you later this afternoon." As Dumbledore left, he gave Madam Pomfrey a meaningful glance. She sighed in exasperation, and gestured to Millicent's bed.  
  
"Thank goodness!" Hermione exclaimed upon seeing Millicent. "You are all right, aren't you? Madam Pomfrey said I shouldn't bother you."  
  
"I suppose I am," Millicent answered, still surprised. "But, why do you care?"  
  
"The best student this year has to offer dies, and you think I wouldn't care? Honestly, I'm surprised the Ministry wants to try you at all. It's obvious you're innocent."  
  
"Is it?" Millicent asked curiously.  
  
"Of course! Even Harry said you were torn up about it. And only someone who didn't want to do it would break their wand! Even a few of those wouldn't do that."  
  
Millicent was not sure what to say. After all, she had still cast the curse. Why was Hermione even talking to her? Even Harry had not come to see her. Hermione was Harry's friend; why was she here?  
  
"-and I told Harry that he should come and see you after practice. He should be here soon. I expect Madam Pomfrey will ask me to leave then."  
  
"Harry is coming to see me? But- but I almost killed him!"  
  
"Well, yes. But Harry has been so worried about you; he won't be happy until he knows you're all right."  
  
"But. . . All right, why are you here?"  
  
"I came to give you your homework, of course! Ginny allowed me to copy what they have been given since you disappeared."  
  
"Oh. Thank you. I suppose I shall be needing that."  
  
"Snape's been giving out even more homework than usual, and I don't think he'll let you make up anything you've done in class. But, Millicent I wanted to tell you-"  
  
"All right, Miss Granger, your time is up. You can come back tomorrow. Mister Potter, this is not a zoo!"  
  
"I know it isn't," Harry assured Madam Pomfrey, "But I wanted to see Millicent."  
  
"My aren't you popular, dear? All right, five minutes, Mister Potter." Madam Pomfrey shooed Hermione out. Millicent and Harry looked at each awkwardly.  
  
"So, you're doing better?"  
  
"Oh yes. I expect I shall be just fine in another day or two."  
  
"Hermione brought you your homework?"  
  
"Yes, she did. Very nice of her. Harry?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Why are you here? If someone tried to kill me, I do not think I would be here making small talk with them."  
  
"Well," Harry scratched the back of his head, "You didn't mean it. And besides, you were quite nice about the whole thing."  
  
Millicent stared at Harry. She was what? He did not even mind the fact that she had at least tried? She opened her mouth to ask him what that meant, but Madam Pomfrey came with another cup of hot chocolate. Harry said goodbye regretfully, and Millicent was left with more questions than answers. 


	7. Farewell

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers, and just a gentle reminder, Millicent doesn't know she's Snape's kid, and Snape certainly isn't going to tell her, now is he? And now I will stand back so the mob can burn Fudge.  
  
"Really, Fudge, I don't see why you must go through all this."  
  
"Dumbledore, I wouldn't if the whole public was quiet about this mess. Someone has leaked information to the press about Miss Ri. I would watch that Lockhart more closely. I am afraid I must take her into custody, and to Azkaban."  
  
"Azkaban?" Professor McGonagall interrupted. "She's only a child, Fudge!"  
  
"I have no choice. It is more for her protection. Voldemort would not want to break in there."  
  
"You ought to leave her here," McGonagall grumbled. She and the other House-Heads were crowding Dumbledore's office.  
  
"It is to be understood, Fudge, that you should protect her from all former Death-eaters as well. That includes Lucius Malfoy."  
  
"We are taking every precaution, I assure you. The trial will establish, without a doubt, her innocence. After she completes whatever small punishment we decide, she will return to Hogwarts. You can even send her homework."  
  
"I'm certain that she will have other things on her mind besides homework," McGonagall said sharply. Fudge looked uncomfortable.  
  
"I do not like this anymore than you, but we must do this in public. How else can we clear her name?"  
  
Dumbledore was silent. He petted Fawkes, his phoenix, without looking at Cornelius. This was not turning out as he had hoped it might. Of course, the fact that the only witness who was willing to speak in Millicent's favor was Harry, did not help. If Snape, who had actually seen Millicent cast the curse, would speak, things might move faster. Dumbledore knew, however, that he would have to cast an illegal curse on Snape to make him speak.  
  
Fudge looked even more uncomfortable in the silence that had descended. Dumbledore considered fixing him with a pointed stare, but settled for watching McGonagall glare at Fudge. That stare was potent enough when turned on students, however, adults seemed to find it even more difficult to deal with. A glance at the clock told Dumbledore that Millicent would at least be finished with her dinner.  
  
He glanced at McGonagall. She released Fudge from her potent glare. Dumbledore rose from his desk. Fudge looked relieved.  
  
"I shall inform Miss Ri of the situation. She will need at least another half-hour to gather her things. I expect you to take her out quietly, Fudge. Only a few students know that she is even alive at this point."  
  
"Of course."   
  
Dumbledore left Fudge with the other teachers. He hurried down to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was inspecting Millicent's leg again. Millicent was looking on with her usual emotionless mask. She was not wincing, but she certainly was not smiling. Millicent had yet to smile, now that Dumbledore thought about it. Why did she never smile?  
  
"Madam Pomfrey, how is her leg?"  
  
"Almost completely healed. I must say Millicent, you are one of my better patients. You'll be completely healed by tomorrow, I'm sure."  
  
"I'm afraid Millicent will no longer be under your care, Poppy. The Ministry has come for her. You have a half-hour to gather your things, Miss Ri."  
  
"Albus, I do not want her on that leg until tomorrow. It would be best if she had time to completely heal."  
  
"We have no choice, Poppy. Miss Ri must go."  
  
"I really do not have very much, Madam Pomfrey. Just my clothes and books. They do not weigh very much. I can carry my suitcase," Millicent told Madam Pomfrey. The nurse sniffed.  
  
"If they want you to go, they can carry the suitcase. You are not to carry anything except yourself. I'm sure Miss Granger would not mind packing up your things for you."  
  
So, Hermione came down with Millicent's things, and hugged her farewell. She brought with her Harry, who assured Millicent quietly that everything was going to be well, especially because Dumbledore was looking out for her. Madam Pomfrey fretted and fussed, packing the salve for Millicent's leg and cuts. She gave Millicent explicit instructions twice. Millicent nodded, strangely serene, but not one bit happy.  
  
"And I do not want her to carry anything for another week, Fudge," Madam Pomfrey insisted. "She's too fragile. And no walking for long distances for another two days. I've given her the medicine. One more thing, no dementors. This girl has been through enough without you making her lose what is left of her sanity."  
  
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey, I understand. Come along, now Miss Ri. She can walk, can't she?"  
  
"I can walk just as well as you can," Millicent answered. She wished that none of this had to happen, or at least, that she could disappear off the face of the planet. Once this trial was over, Millicent knew she would have no way to redeem herself with Voldemort. She would become another target, and like the rest, she would die a miserable death. 


	8. My Own Mistake

A/N: Sorry, I have no idea how THAT happened, and thanks for pointing it out to me. I think I was thinking about posting it, and then it happened without my wanting it to be posted. . . Ah well. Here is your treat for being so observant Starr!  
  
"The most important thing," Millicent wrote, "to remember when working a charm is that you must have complete confidence in yourself. This cannot be achieved through any kind of magic. Only those who have a firm belief in their own talents can achieve any of the strongest charms. Also, the same is true of curses. For example, the most dangerous curse, known as the 'Vitam' curse, will take the life of any who uses it, for the amount of confidence required is astronomical. This is not to say that one must have an abnormally large ego, but that the caster must not believe in anything except the right to live."  
  
Millicent set aside her quill, and blew gently on the scroll she had been writing on. All of her homework went back to Hogwarts via owl, and so her ink had to be dry, lest it smudge and ruin her writing. She had no way to exactly measure her scrolls, so she made best guesses, preferring to over-estimate. This was the third essay she had written for Charms, since there really was no way for her to cast spells, without any wand.  
  
Most of her professors were very nice about their assignments, but Lockhart had not sent any homework at all. Professor Snape, on the other side of the coin, had sent her enough to keep her busy for months under normal schooling conditions. Luckily, Millicent had nothing better to do than look up magical herbs and potion ingredients in her books, and attempt to cross reference them with her other text books. Lockhart's books were of no real help, except when she could point out that some wizards and witches had unrealistic ideas about how potions worked.  
  
Fudge had told Millicent she might feel more depressed than usual, for the guards of Azkaban had that affect on people. However, she felt no different than she always did. She kept quiet about it, since she had discovered that she disliked being an object of pity. Her trial would start tomorrow, so Millicent was hurrying along her homework, because Fudge had said she would be on trial for about eight hours a day.  
  
"Shrinking potions must be concocted with the utmost care. A wizard or witch who makes a botched shrinking potion may find themselves facing inquisition, or worse, find themselves quite dead after imbibing the potion." Millicent tapped her quill against her cheek, trying to find the best complex words for her next sentence. She wrote another paragraph or two, but she was abruptly interrupted.  
  
"Shrinking potions? What is a Hogwarts student doing in here?" a male voice asked. Millicent jumped, but caught her inkwell before it could upset itself. She turned to look at the man who had interrupted her.  
  
He had long, unkempt black hair, that fell into his eyes, which were sunk into his face. He looked as if he had not seen a good meal in years, and, Millicent thought, that was certainly true of a prisoner here at Azkaban. Something about him told Millicent he was not an ordinary prisoner. Maybe it was the fact that his eyes did not lack focus, and he seemed to be rational, rather than mad.  
  
"Well, what are you doing here?" he repeated.  
  
"Facing inquiry," Millicent said. She put the stopper back in her inkwell, and blew on the scroll. She tested the ink while he asked,  
  
"Inquiry? Aren't you a bit young for that Miss. . . what is your name?"  
  
"Millicent." She rolled up her scroll, guessing she would not be able to finish that essay until this man finished asking his questions of her.  
  
"You're Millicent? I should have guessed. You look like your mother. But you have a bit of your father's nose."  
  
"So, you have seen him?" Millicent was under the impression that few saw Voldemort and lived.  
  
"Of course I have. We went to school together. Miserable little snipe, he was. Always sticking that nose where it didn't belong."  
  
"That is not a comment most people would care to say to say to his face," Millicent observed quietly.  
  
"Plenty of us told Snape off," the man said, raising an eyebrow at Millicent. "Unless he's become the next Voldemort, Snape's no scarier than a playground bully."  
  
"What does Snape have to do with my father?" Millicent asked. A few pieces were falling into place in her mind. She stared at the man in front of her. "Snape is my father?"  
  
"You didn't know-I shouldn't have told you. I thought you knew. He should have told you by now. He adored you. You and your mother."  
  
"He never said a word," Millicent told the man softly. She bit her lip. Now she understood why Snape hated her so much. She was his daughter; his tainted, evil, unwanted reminder of a once wonderful life.  
  
"I'm sorry. I should have guessed. Dumbledore would never tell you that. Not with the kind of person Snape is. He must hate you."  
  
"He has every right to," Millicent said, "But you know that, do you not? You know who I am. You know why he does."  
  
"He shouldn't hate you for his own mistakes!"  
  
"I am not his mistake! I am my own mistake! I should have gone to Dumbledore. I never wanted to kill anyone! But I was stupid and weak. I cannot imagine why anyone here is even trying to help me. I know Malfoy will have the jury in his pocket."  
  
"Malfoy? Dumbledore won't let him interfere in this. It's an open and shut case, as far as you are concerned. If you couldn't do the curse, you are innocent. And as for Snape, you're better off without him."  
  
"I am better off dead, as far as that goes."  
  
"The dementors are getting to you. You must be very sensitive. Listen to me, once this is over, you'll be safe at Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore is the only man Voldemort is afraid of. And Voldemort won't waste his time with you. He'll believe that you are too scared to fight him."  
  
"I am too scared to fight him. Do you know what he does to traitors? Have you ever seen the look in their eyes, right before he finishes them? How do you fight that?"  
  
"You live, Millicent." The man reached forward and grabbed her shoulders. "You have to believe, Millicent."  
  
"Believe in what?" Millicent asked, staring into the man's eyes.  
  
"Believe that you have as much right to live as he does. Believe that you aren't evil, or selfish. Did you try to kill Harry because Voldemort told you to? Or did you try because you never knew he had a chance to save himself? Millicent, you aren't evil. Only the evil people use others for their own selfish goals. Believe me, I know."  
  
"Are you evil?"  
  
"I don't know. But I do know that I have a purpose in life."  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"The man across the hall. And I should get back there before someone finds me in here 'corrupting' you."  
  
"I meant, what is your name?" Milllicent said, before he could leave her alone again.  
  
"Sirius. I may see you again, Millicent." Sirius made a quick exit, shutting her door behind him.  
  
Sirius had left Millicent with much to think about. Snape was her father, Voldemort was not. She had to believe in her right to live. She was safe at Hogwarts? Obviously Sirius knew little about Voldemort's system. Crabbe and Goyle would be happy to take Millicent out. Maybe even Draco too.  
  
Malfoy. There was another can of worms. How could she tell everything, if they asked her to name accomplices? Draco would hate her forever, and he was Millicent's first and only friend. And what would they be asking her? Would they ask about Voldemort? How much would they want to know?  
  
Millicent unrolled her scroll and re-read the start of her essay. She dipped her pen into her inkwell and wrote:  
  
"There is nothing worse than living with failure, except the knowledge that no matter how much you have failed, someone else wants you to try again." 


	9. Crime and Punishment

A/N: This chapter is boring and awkward, and I'm making a major revision to it. That is, I'm dropping the whole scene inside the courtroom. So, what did she lie about? That you'll have to ask me about. . . or perhaps I'll just use it in a flashback.  
  
"She lied. You could hear it in her voice. Why wouldn't she tell us any names?"  
  
"She was raised by You-Know-Who. Do you think he'd let her know anything? Maybe she didn't think she knew their real names."  
  
"I think we ought to lock her away, for our safety. Look at her. She's inhuman! She said everything with that same deadpan voice and expression. It's creepy."  
  
"Do you think Voldemort would afford her a moment of happiness? Or to show even a bit of weakness in his presence? For all we know, Voldemort ordered her to show him nothing more than fear. Voldemort is pure evil, and he has high standards."  
  
"Will you stop saying his name, Owena? Gods, you scare me!"  
  
"Erwin, you know as well as anyone, I am not going to wander around calling him 'You-Know-Who' and 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.' His name is Voldemort, or, if you prefer, Tom Riddle. That little girl in there has led a life that most of us shudder at as adults, and she is no more than a month over eleven years old! It is no small wonder she hasn't killed herself! And this case is so open-shut, I'm surprised they made us even look at it. The curse didn't work. You can't make the curse work unless you want it to. End of story."  
  
"She even broke her wand," offered another witch. "Even I don't think she would go that far unless she was extremely distressed."  
  
"A wand is the wizard's best tool," quoted an aged wizard. The rest of the jury nodded. Except Erwin.  
  
"We have to punish her for attempting it at least."  
  
"Sending her back to Hogwarts will be punishment enough. Can you imagine how the children will treat her?" a young witch, barely graduated from school herself, asked.  
  
"Then, it is unanimous? Hogwarts, even in the summer?"  
  
"Yes, we'll have to keep her safe. She may be able to help us later on. And the last thing we need is for Voldemort to get ahold of her again."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
"Then we can all go home," Owena told the jury with a smile. This was greeted with cheers. The trial had gone for three weeks, with an endless amount of witnesses who had seen Millicent, and a few trips to Hogwarts and the Dark Forest.  
  
Owena had noted to herself that most of the witnesses for the defense had been supplied by Dumbledore. Remus had been called. His capture by Voldemort was practically legendary. Millicent had saved his life, even though she had wanted him to stay, out of lonliness. As far as Millicent had been allowed to know, according to her, Remus was dead.  
  
Owena gathered together the notes from the trial and put them into the file folder. She would present them to the clerk on her way out. She shuffled through them, making sure she wasn't including any blank pieces of paper. A few of the drawings the youngest member had included on her notes, including a lovely picture of the prosecutor hanging, made her smile.  
  
"So, you are letting the little murderer off?" Owena stiffened at the sound of the of that oily smooth voice.  
  
"Only authorized members are allowed in here, Lucius." Owena made her away around him, heading for the door.  
  
"The jury is not in session any longer, is it? You'd make for a very small, very biased jury."  
  
"You only hope I won't be on the one that oversees your trial, Lucius," Owena snarled, viciously slamming the door in his face. He opened it again with that smug smile still on his face.  
  
"We'll see how this looks to the general public. I'd keep an eye on that little girl. You know how easily kids can disappear."  
  
"Are you threatening her, Lucius?"  
  
"I'm only telling you that accidents happen. Let her know she must be careful."  
  
"Watch yourself, Lucius. You never know how people will take that. Now get out of here before I decide I need a dementor or two." Owena was pleased to see that Lucius walked a bit faster at the mention of dementors.  
  
"You'll get what's coming to you Lucius. And I'll be one of those who doesn't miss you at all." 


	10. Return

A/N: This is short little chapter. Ivy Crane, I made Ri up before I knew that Voldemort's other name was Riddle. Ri is her mother's maiden name.  
  
"When is she going to get here? Professor McGonagall promised she'd be back today."  
  
"Geez, Hermione, I'd think you wouldn't want anything to do with a girl who tried to kill Harry. I know I don't."  
  
"Ron, she didn't want to do it. She just thought she didn't have any choice."  
  
"But she still tried!"  
  
"Did she have a choice? Look at it from her perspective, Ron. I doubt she had a cheerful childhood."  
  
"There she is!" Harry said, pointing. Hermione jumped up.  
  
"Millicent! Over here!" Millicent stared at Hermione. She walked over to the group, her head cocked to one side to indicate her confusion.  
  
"Yes?" Hermione hugged her, making Millicent's eye grow wide with surprise.  
  
"Oh, it wasn't too terrible was it? They were very nice to you, weren't they?"  
  
"I suppose. They really did not have a reason to treat me any sort of way," Millicent told Hermione, who released her.  
  
"Was it terrible at Azkaban?" Harry asked Millicent.  
  
"I do not know. I did not feel any different than I always do." Millicent decided not to mention anything about Sirius and his advice. Maybe Sirius was crazy. Or perhaps it was she who was the crazy one.  
  
"Did you finish all the work they sent you?"  
  
"They sent her work? At Azkaban? Are they crazy?" Ron demanded. Millicent looked at him, her strangely composed face making him take a step back.  
  
"I am still a student. I will do the work that is expected of me."  
  
"If only everyone was as devoted as you," Hermione said, taking Millicent's arm and leading her away. Harry and Ron watched them go, listening to Hermione go on about the upcoming History test. Ron looked at Harry.  
  
"She's obsessed."  
  
"Which? Millicent or Hermione?"  
  
"Both. They must be out of their minds." Ron shook his head. Harry smiled. He looked back at Millicent before turning back to the table.  
  
"But she certainly is special," he added to himself.  
  
Harry was not the only who watched Millicent return, and then leave with Hermione. Hidden in the shadows, which seemed to be a habit of his, Severus Snape watched his daughter calmly speak of Azkaban. His worst fears were confirmed. The child he had known was gone, completely replaced by a monster.  
  
Even now, he had failed. Damn that child! Could she not have held out? Where was that Gryffindor bravery her mother was supposed to have given her? Coming to a decision, Snape prepared himself for battle. If that girl was going to follow in her "father's" footsteps, he would no longer have anything to do with her. She was not his child. 


	11. The Gift

Although Millicent had missed nearly four weeks, all of her teachers expressed an extreme confidence in her abilities. All right, Snape expressed an extreme lack of confidence in her abillities, and every time Millicent turned around Lockhart was flinching away from her. Armed with a new wand, she set out to try to prove that she truly was a good person. Unfortunately, her former life had prepared her badly for Hogwarts. She was afraid to express herself, and afraid to expose any bit of her true self.  
  
Draco had left her. Actually, he had slammed her up against a wall, threatened her with death, and stormed away- after telling her never to talk with him again. He had been her only friend, and now Millicent was trapped in the huge castle full of hostile people, alone. No, she could not afford to expose herself. That lesson was burned into her skin, her mind, her heart.  
  
"Shove over," Colin Creevey muttered, as he pushed her aside. Even the smallest here had height and weight on her. And power over her.  
  
"Miss Ri, ten points for not moving out of the way of a student," Snape growled. Millicent tried hard not to seem upset.  
  
"Yes sir. I am sorry Colin." She received a snort from Colin in reply. He, along with the rest of her class, was convinced that she was the Heir of Slytherin.  
  
Not that Millicent had not briefly wondered if she could be. However, the book(Hogwarts, A History) had been specific about blood relationship. Just Voldemort calling himself her father did not make him her father. There was no doubt in her mind that Voldemort had to be Salazaar's heir. The trouble was, because she was not his child, Voldemort had no heir to be the heir.  
  
Which gave Millicent a terrible headache, and frightened her out of her mind. No matter what Dumbledore said, she had a deep suspicion that Voldemort was here. It was either that or she had gone insane. No, insanity would be blissfully welcome, Millicent decided. This is simple paranoia.  
  
"Miss Ri, the Headmaster wants to see you after class," Snape grumbled. Blinking, Millicent replied,  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
When class ended, Millicent carefully returned her books to her bag. She looked up to find Snape glaring at her. A bit surprised, and more than a little nervous, she safely tucked away her quill.  
  
"Hurry up, girl. I have better things to do than escort you around the school!"  
  
When she had finished, he had gestured for her to precede him. Knowing the break-neck pace he tended to use to roam the hallways, Millicent made herself hurry along as well. She was a bit out of breath when they reached the stone gargoyle.  
  
"Rotten tomato," Snape growled at the gargoyle. Millicent almost raised an eyebrow. That a most un-Dumbledore password. Maybe it was Snape's special password. It sounded like him.  
  
"Severus, thank you for bringing Miss Ri. Hello, my dear. Would you like a lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked as Millicent and Snape took their seats.  
  
"What is a lemon drop?" Millicent asked, curiousity freeing her tongue. Snape was glaring at her, but Millicent had become mostly accustomed to that.  
  
"A kind of muggle sweet. Care to try one?" Dumbledore offered her a strangely yellow object.  
  
"Yes, please. Thank you." She put it inside her mouth and was surprised. The lemon drop was both sweet and sour, and reminded her of a distant memory. It was too distant to place, and she was interrupted by the appearance of Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Minerva, I trust you are well?" Dumbledore asked of Millicent's Head of House.  
  
"Yes, quite well, thank you. Miss Ri," McGonagall acknowledged her. She bobbed her head respectfully, since most teachers were made nervous by her curtsy.  
  
"I suppose that you are aware Miss Ri, of the current situation?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Millicent was surprised by the question, but she had a feeling Dumbledore guessed at the source of her own discomfort.  
  
"Miss Ri, is there anything you think you can say to shed some light on this situation?"  
  
"I am not certain. All of my knowledge is. . . contestable. I do know that Voldemort once said he was the Heir. If it was of Slytherin's Heir. . . I do not know for certain. The comment was not directed at myself."  
  
"I understand. Miss Ri, could you guess at the location of the Serpent's Lair?" Dumbledore asked before he could be stopped by either professor.   
  
He watched silently as Millicent changed very subtly. Her strangely aqua eyes lost focus and color. She closed them for a moment, and told him in an eerie voice,  
  
"You already have the knowledge of the location. It is for you to recall it." Severus came out of his chair at this. She still had the Gift!  
  
"Sit, Severus," Albus said softly. The young student relaxed backwards in her chair, until she was slumped in it, fast asleep.  
  
"Albus, you did not tell us she had the Gift!" Minerva scolded.  
  
"It has only manifested itself once before," Alubs told his deputy Headmistress gently. "If she had shown any sign of it when she had first come here, of course I would have told you."  
  
"Just don't tell Sybil. She'll have a field day with that. But she didn't tell us anything."  
  
"Of course not. It seems we already possess the information, just are not thinking hard enough. Well, it is unfortunate that we could not get more from her, but all in all, I believe we have done well. Severus would you take her to the hospital wing? She needs to rest."  
  
"I will have nothing to do with her," Snape growled at Dumbledore, standing up. "I have told you already, I have no wish to be anywhere near her more than is necessary."  
  
"Oh dear," Minerva said softly, watching Severus race down the stairs. "Oh, Albus, she deserves to know her father."  
  
"Indeed she does, Minerva, but there is little I can do. Now, can you send for someone to help Millicent to the hospital wing? She has been in need of a good rest for quite some time." 


	12. Don't Cry

Millicent sighed, and threw herself down on a comfy chair in the Gryffindor common room. She now had the entire school to herself, with the exception of the teachers. Everyone else had left for summer vacation, which meant silence for the first time in months. After being accused of being the Heir of Slytherin by Lockhart all year, and dealing with all the other students who seemed to hate her, Millicent was grateful for lonliness.  
  
Still, it seemed that the students were not the only ones who hated her. Lockhart had not been the only one to watch her constantly. It seemed to Millicent that Snape, the potions teacher, had an extreme hatred of her. He gave her more homework than anyone, which led Headmaster Dumbledore to promote her a year. She would be a third year student when school started again in the fall.  
  
Millicent still hurt inside when she thought about Snape. He was her father, after all. He hated her and that hurt more than anything, even more than Draco ignoring her all year. It made her feel very small inside, as she always felt.  
  
Millicent sat up. It would be of no use to her to spend her summer lying around feeling sorry for herself. She might as well go to the library and check out some of the books she would need to read to finish her summer homework. At least now she would be the only one who could check out books.  
  
After Millicent slipped out of the portrait hole, she waved to the Fat Lady. Millicent went down the stairs. She turned the corner and bumped into Professor Snape. She cocked her head to one side.  
  
"I am sorry. I did not see you."  
  
"That much is obvious," Snape snarled. Millicent bit her lower lip.  
  
"I am sorry," Millicent repeated, moving to leave. She did not get very far.  
  
"Apology not accepted. If you must insist on running people down, you could at least be truthful about your intent," Snape snapped.  
  
"If you hate me, you could just say so, and be done with it," Millicent said to him softly.  
  
"I do not hate you." Severus paused, just long enough to see that spark of hope in her eyes. "I loathe you."  
  
"Then do not speak to me," Millicent said softly. She slipped past him, and around the corner. Myrtle was hanging in the air in front of her bathroom.  
  
"Now you know how it feels," Myrtle said snidely. Millicent looked at her out of the corner of her expressionless eyes.  
  
"No, Myrtle. I have always known how it feels." Millicent pushed away from the wall, and walked back up to the Gryffindor girls dormitory. She stared out the window. In less than three months, the other children would be out there in the sunlight. Outside, where she never went. She closed her eyes, and fought back the tears.  
  
"Don't cry. Don't scream. Don't show your weakness. They'll just use it to break you. Over and over," Millicent thought to herself.   
  
She felt the tear slipping down, and rubbed it away as fast as she could. She pinched her arm as hard as she could, bringing a soft gasp to her lips. The tears dried up, as the blood slid down her arm, again.  
  
"This is what keeps me alive. This, and this," Millicent whispered to herself, using a piece of broken metal to carve into her hand. She inspected the writing on her hand, watching the blood well up.  
  
"I love you," Millicent whispered. "But you hate me." 


	13. Memory

"Ah, Miss Ri, I see you do not intend to let your studies to evaporate in the sunshine, as with most of your classmates."  
  
Millicent looked up from her books. Her perch on the windowsill was quite comfortable. She shook her head at Professor Dumbledore, and placed her bookmark in her page.  
  
"No sir, I do not."  
  
"Perhaps you should let at least a few of them go for now? It is a nice day outside."  
  
"I am very comfortable here, sir," Millicent assured him.  
  
"Now, it is all very good to study hard, but don't forget to have fun in between your studies, Mis Ri," Dumbldore said, wagging a finger at her.  
  
"I will not, sir," Millicent promised. She held a hand behind her back, fingers crossed. She could never keep such a promise. How could she have fun?  
  
"Oh, yes, and these came for you." Dumbledore handed Millicent several letters, the thickest of which Millicent could tell was from Hermione. "We prefer the owls not to fly around the school."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
"You're very welcome Miss Ri. I'm certain those will be more fun than your books." Dumbldore's eyes twinkled as he left. Millicent raised an eyebrow, but opened the thickest letter first.  
  
Dear Millicent,  
  
How is your summer going? I'm almost done catching up on all the work I missed out. Do you know who our D.A.D.A. teacher will be? I hope it's someone better than Lockhart was. I'm just realizing how little we learned in his class! It makes study easier, though. Ron gave me an idea for a birthday present for you, though he'll never admit it. I know your birthday isn't until August, but this will do you more good now. You've probably never seen one, so I included instructions. It's a muggle invention called a CD player, and I incluced some CDs I burned(doesn't mean what you think it does, I assure you) just for you. The CDs have music on them, and when you put them into the CD player and press the play button (all explained in the instructions), you can hear it.  
  
Anyway, Mum is yelling at me to come to dinner. Have a great summer. I hope you can trade notes with me when I see you again. Write me back!  
Love,  
Hermione  
  
Millicent removed the "CD player" and "CDs." The instructions fell out, and Millicent set everything down to go through them. Five minutes later she was staring at the device doubtfully. She had checked and there were "batteries" in the thing, so she did not have to go and find out what those were. She removed one of the CDs and placed it carefully into the CD player. She placed the "headphones" over her ears and pressed the "play" button on the CD player.  
  
"I wanted to be like you. I wanted everything. So I tried to be like you, and I got swept away. I didn't know that it was so cold and you needed someone to show you the way. So I took your hand and we figured out that when the tide comes, I'd take you away.   
  
"If you want to, I can save you; I can take you away from here. So lonely inside, so busy out there; and all you wanted was somebody who cares.   
  
"I'm sinking slowly, so hurry hold me; your hand is all I have to keep me hanging on. Please can you tell me, so I can finally see where you go when you're gone.   
  
"If you want to, I can save you; I can take you away from here. So lonely inside, so busy out there; and all you wanted was somebody who cares.   
  
"All you wanted was somebody who cares. If you need me, you know I'll be there. Oh, yeah. If you want to, I can save you; I can take you away from here. So lonely inside, so busy out there; and all you wanted was somebody who cares.   
  
"If you want to, I can save you; I can take you away from here. So lonely inside, so busy out there; and all you wanted was somebody who cares. Please can you tell me, so I can finally see where you go when you're gone."  
  
Millicent looked at the case for the CD. Under "Track 01," it said, "Michelle Branch: All You Wanted." She wondered why Hermione had thought that song was somehow a representation of her. She pressed the stop button, and looked at her other letters. There was one from Harry, which still surprised her. He had already spent more time with her than she thought he should. Still, she opened his letter anyway.  
  
Dear Millicent,  
  
Hermione said she was sending you present early, so I thought I'd send you something too. I guess we'll get your birthday right next year. I hope you aren't spending all your time studying. Hermione said you would be. And yes, it was Ron's idea to send you a CD player. So, since you've got it, I found a CD with a Canadian artist, so you can have international music. I have to finish my homework. See you at the start of term feast!  
Harry  
  
Millicent blinked, and pulled out the CD. It had a picture of a woman, the artist she presumed, on the cover. "Alanis Morrisette: Jagged Little Pill," the title read. She turned the CD case over to read the back and gasped. Harry found her song! The only song she knew, from hearing it once on the radio.  
  
Millicent calmed herself and placed the CD with the others, picking up the last letter. To her utter amazement it was from Ron. She hesistated, but opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. She braced herself before reading.  
  
Dear Millicent,  
  
Just so you know, my mum is making me write this. She thinks you should be "helped, poor thing." I'm not going to forgive you for what you did to Harry, and I don't think you're as innocent as you pretend. I'll be watching you.  
Ron  
  
"Well that was not as bad as I expected," Millicent said quietly to herself.   
  
She put away the letters and gathered her books. She found that the CD player fit into the large pocket inside her robe, headphones and all. When she turned around to pick up her books, Millicent looked out the window at the sunny day. It was a nice day.  
  
"Going somewhere, Miss Ri?" Millicent froze at the sound of Snape's voice. Did he have nothing better to do than bother her?  
  
"Back to the dormitory."  
  
"Shouldn't a child like you be outside, on a nice day like this?"  
  
"I really do not feel like it."  
  
"Careful, Miss Ri. Someone might mistake you for a vampire."  
  
"I am sure you will set them straight about it, professor." Millicent stepped around Snape, and started to head off to the dormitory.  
  
"Yes, I'll be sure to tell them you're just a blood-sucking spy, not a vampire." Millicent tightened her grip on her books, but refused to give Snape the pleasure of a retort.  
  
Snape watched Millicent's retreating figure. He pressed his lips together into a thin line. Why did she have to look so much like her mother? It would be so much easier to reject her if she was happy, or careless. Yet, there she was, never smiling. She was just like Ravena would have been.  
  
"But I'm not going to go easy on you just because you remind me of her. I will not love you for a memory."  
  
Disclaimer: The above mentioned songs belong to the artists they are credited to, not myself. 


	14. Summer Project

A/N: Faster? Okay, I can upload faster. How about one, or two a day?  
  
Millicent stood with her head tilted, examining the mural. She reached out a hand to feel the wall, and then the paint on it. She placed a finger on her lips, which were frowning.  
  
"Find something wrong with the wall, Miss Ri?"  
  
"The paint should have been acrylic, and washed more often. The dust is eating away at the picture, and it fades faster-" Millicent stopped, and looked at Dumbledore. "Oh!"  
  
"A little bird told me you like to paint. I was wondering if, for a summer project, you would like to touch up our school murals? They have faded, and most likely for the same reasons you suggested. You will recieve extra credit in your classes for it, of course."  
  
"I would be honored to," Millicent said. Dumbledore was privately pleased to see Millicent's face light up.  
  
"Filch has told me he has paints in his supply closet. He has been demanding that I get rid of them, and I can see no better way to use them than on these murals. Is there anything else you would be needing?"  
  
"Artist tape. . . Well, I can use masking tape. . . It will just take longer. Does he have paintbrushes?"  
  
"Perhaps you should go and see for yourself," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I will," Millicent said. She looked at the mural a bit longer, then turned to leave. Dumbledore smiled, watching her hurry off to find Filch.  
  
"Albus, you know we don't have to paint these murals by hand," McGonagall scolded.  
  
"Always occupy the children with work that shall employ their creative thinking, Minerva. And, of course, work they will enjoy. Perhaps some painting will help to cheer Millicent, and take her mind off of her circumstances."  
  
"That sounds like a miracle you're planning."  
  
"Perhaps not so much a miracle as a favor." 


	15. What it is Like

Millicent carefully blended her paints, and streak tested the yellow she had come up with. Tilting her head to the side, she considered the yellow, then carefully added a drop of green to the yellow. After giving a little sigh, Millicent began to carefully use her yellow to fill in the remaining space between the designs on the mural. The last artist had left the stone bare, but Millicent preferred there to be color. When she reached the end of the Hufflepuff boundaries, Millicent cleaned her brush and began to mix again.  
  
Students would be returning tomorrow night. This would Millicent's last chance to add anything to the murals before classes started. Her birthday had come and gone without much fanfare. Millicent had not known that anyone still at Hogwarts had known when her birthday was-at least, not anyone who would care to do anything about it-until Madam Pomfrey had insisted Millicent must come with her to the library. Imagine her surprise when she found most of the staff waiting there with a birthday cake, and presents. Of course the presents were her school things for the next year, but Millicent had never had a party before.  
  
Dumbledore had given her permission for a one-day trip to Diagon Alley to get his present: a familiar. A purr reminded Millicent where her familiar was. She absentmindedly reached down with her free hand and stroked the purple-yes, purple-fur of her cat. Lilac, as Millicent had decided would suit her, was a little over a year old, and had suffered a small misfortune as a kitten; namely, being dropped in a vat of purple dye by an overly fond four-year-old.  
  
There actually was one more student at the school already. Another Gryffindorian, the student's name was Lana Lionel. She was a bit stand-offish towards Millicent, but she clearly adored Lilac. Which was fine with Millicent, so long as Lilac was comfortable, and not attemping to kill Lana with her formidable claws.  
  
Which reminded Millicent of an unpleasant incident with Snape. Millicent had been painting the last of the Slytherin mural, and counting her blessings for having not run into him while she had been painting it. Some bee in Snape's bonnet must have told him come and critisize her as she painted. Mostly, he felt she had the green entirely wrong.  
  
While Millicent felt he was right, because she could not find the original base green anywhere, Lilac had taken offence at his snide commentary. Being the cat she was, Lilac bit his ankle. Of course, Snape had yelled and Millicent had snatched Lilac up and scolded her as best she could. Lilac had turned her pale green cat eyes on Millicent with a look that clearly told Millicent she would think less of her if she apologized.  
  
Millicent had anyway. Not that Snape was satisfied with that, but she had somehow managed to escape without losing any points. Mostly because Lana had shown up and asked Snape if he had any idea why Peeves was going through all of the Potions books. Millicent liked to entertain the idea that Lana had asked him that to help her.  
  
"Why are you still painting? Aren't they done?" Millicent turned to look down at Lana. She was up on a ladder, precariously balancing the paints and her cat as well as herself.  
  
"Not quite. They will be done before tomorrow, I hope. The rest of the house murals are done."  
  
"Then why are you filling in parts that were never colored?'  
  
"Artistic license. One of the few true freedoms."  
  
"Sounds like a lot of unappreciated work to me," Lana commented, shaking her head. She sat down, holding her knees to her chest, looking up at Millicent.  
  
"It is." Millicent added a bit of red to the green for Slytherin on a whim.  
  
"Then why bother?"  
  
"I have no idea," Millicent told the wall. Lana laughed.  
  
"If you finish tonight, what will you do tomorrow?"  
  
"Go and look at the murals one more time. If I think I can fix something, I will. If not, I will let it sit until next summer. Or until I can."  
  
"You are a strange person, Millicent. I mean you spent a whole year in almost complete social isolation. Yet, you still paint the school murals?"  
  
"Why does the prisoner bother to pick up his trash? Because it is for himself he does all he can to make his life a bit better. So, too, do I endeavor to make my prison a better place."  
  
"Why do you call this a prison? I love it here."  
  
"It is different for everyone," Millicent allowed. She finished the last of the borders and capped off her paints. Lilac jumped down from the ladder and wandered over to Lana. Millicent carefully descended, juggling her paints and other equipment. Lana stood and took the pallet from Millicent.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"No problem. You did have a lot to carry down. Millicent, I know you're a better student than me, so maybe you could tutor me?"  
  
"I will not be in your classes. . . All that extra work Snape gave me made Professor Dumbledore decide to let me skip a grade. However, I would not be overly burdened by tutoring you."  
  
"Does that mean yes?"  
  
"It does," Millicent agreed. She put away the last of her supplies, and blew on her hands to warm them. Closing the top of the case Filch had given her to carry around the paints in, Millicent lifted Lilac off Lana's feet.  
  
"So, what are you doing tonight? Besides dinner?"  
  
"Preparing for classes by going over old material. Would you like to study with me?"  
  
"Sure." Lana gave Millicent a sheepish grin. "I have to tell you that I really don't remember much."  
  
"Then you shall have an advantage if you study tonight. Professor Snape would be extremely disappointed with your class if no one remembered their lessons."  
  
"Pshaw. He'd be disappointed if none of us broke a bone. Blood-sucking vampire that he is. I'm surprised he hasn't started taking points from us yet."  
  
"There is only so much one can handle so early in the term. Neither of us has done anything to deserve the loss of points."  
  
"Yet," Lana muttered. She brightened. "Can we go over History first? That's my favorite subject."  
  
"It would be best to save that for last. Save your happiness for the end." 


	16. The Present and Past Begin To Mix

A/N: To Ivy Crane: Glad you are curious, but what it was, and what it is will not yet be revealed. And be prepared for Millicent to be acting a bit out of character at first. She's having a good day, obviously. ^_^  
  
"And this year, Gryffindor has the distinguishment of beginning the year with fifty points. Miss Millicent Ri spent the better part of her summer repainting the school murals, and I can see no better way to repay her for her kindness."  
  
The Gryffindor table cheered. Millicent blinked at Professor Dumbledore in surprise. Hermione hugged Millicent enthusiastically.  
  
"I knew you were up to something! All that paint on your letters. I can't believe I didn't see it."  
  
"I must apologize for that. Lilac has a habit of lying on my things. I was attempting to shoo her away."  
  
"It gave your letters color. I could tell them from everyone else's just by the envelope. Potatoes?"  
  
"Yes, please." Millicent accepted the potatoes from Hermione. Lana, who was on Millicent's left, poked her in the side.  
  
"I told you something had to come from all that work."  
  
"It was either this or carpal tunnel syndrome," Millicent agreed. Hermione and Lana laughed, and Millicent passed the potatoes down the table.  
  
"So, what are you taking this term for electives, Millicent?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination. I got pushed into Divination, but I suppose it shall be a good enough class. Professor McGonagall said that I might switch if I find that it is not enough of a challenge for me."  
  
"Aren't there enough classes without them adding more?" Lana asked with a groan. Hermione patted her arm comfortingly.  
  
"If you are a good student now, you'll do just fine."  
  
"Well, then I'm glad I got the best tutor my age. Millicent has agreed to help me   
study."  
  
"Oh, then we can all study together! I'm sure I can help too!"  
  
"How can you think of studying now?" Ron demanded. "Classes don't start until Monday!"  
  
"And Snape might give us a test the first day back! Of course we should be studying!" Hermione made a huffing noise and turned back to Millicent and Lana.  
  
"Do you want to start tonight?"  
  
"We have already covered most of last year's material. But we certainly may finish tonight," Millicent promised Hermione.  
  
"Sounds great to me," Lana agreed. She dug into her food, and the girls were quiet for a bit. Millicent picked a bit of the dried paint off her hands.  
  
"Millicent, is it me, or is Professor Lupin staring at you?"  
  
"Professor who?" Millicent asked, turning to look up at the teacher's table. Her eyes went wide and she drew in a sharp breath. Hermione blinked as Millicent got up from the table.  
  
"I will be back in a minute," Millicent told Hermione and Lana. Hermione watched her go in surprise, and looked back at the teacher's table. Professor Lupin had excused himself as well. After sharing a surprised glance with Lana, Hermione shrugged.  
  
"Must be a coincidence."  
  
In the hallway outside of the Great Hall, Millicent stood, picking nervously at the collar of her robe. She could not comprehend how this ghost of her past had come so calmly back into her life. He had to be the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Yet, he was supposed to be dead.  
  
"Millicent?" When she turned to look, Professor Lupin smiled. "It's been a while."  
  
"I thought you were dead."  
  
"I heard a rumor that he told you that," Lupin said with a nod.  
  
"How did you escape?"  
  
"I used the chair to reach the window, and the rope to climb down. I should have taken you with me. But the only time he ever let you be with me-"  
  
"You were not rational enough to have carried me away," Millicent finished for him. Turning her gaze to the window, Millicent noted the moon was only a tiny sliver.  
  
"You don't know how much I wish I had tried. After the trial, I wanted to see you, but Fudge said you wouldn't want that so soon."  
  
"I would have liked to have seen you," Millicent said in her quiet way. "But, I can see that Fudge would not want one of Voldemort's servants fraternizing with the good people."  
  
"You are not one of Voldemort's servants!" Lupin snapped. Expressionless, Millicent looked at him out of the side of her eyes.  
  
"Are you so certain of that?" 


	17. Truth Uncurtained

A/N: Another kinda creepy chapter. Ivy Crane: If he did hang himself, he did a bad job.  
  
"Why is it you spend this time with me? You have friends, Hermione," Millicent said in her quiet voice. Hermione blinked at her. Lana turned her upper body to look at Millicent as well.  
  
"You are my friend, too."  
  
"No, I am not. You have all been nice to me because you believe you have to be,   
not because you want to be. That is not friendship."  
  
"Millicent, you are my friend. I am your friend because I think you're a good person, even if you are the one person who never speaks in class."  
  
"I am just your friend to you because you don't know me."  
  
"Then tell me who you are." Hermione shut her book. "I have time."  
  
"You have an arithmancy test tomorrow. You should study."  
  
"You're more important than an arithmancy test. Now talk to me. I want to know everything about you. Heavens, I don't even know your favorite color."  
  
"My favorite color?"  
  
"We can start there," Hermione assured Millicent. She sat cross legged on her bed, facing Millicent. The stack of books at her side began to slide down towards the floor. Millicent caught them from her seat on the floor, and placed the stack next to hers.  
  
"I like deep red."  
  
"I bet red would look nice on you," Hermione commented.  
  
"Better than nice," Lana agreed. She slid down from her bed to sit next to Millicent.  
  
"Millicent, what was it like when you were little? I mean, was Voldemort nice to you?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Voldemort would not be nice to himself. He hated me."  
  
"I'm sorry," Hermione said softly.  
  
"Do not be sorry. It was not your fault. It was not even Snape's fault-" Millicent stopped.  
  
"What does Snape have to do with this Millicent?" Hermione asked, joining Millicent and Lana on the floor.  
  
"He is my father," Millicent told her quietly.  
  
"But he hates you!" Lana protested. "He'd rather split his own skull open than admit you are a person!"  
  
"He does now," Millicent said calmly. "After all, I have been tainted by his worst enemy."  
  
"That's no excuse! If he's your father, he should love you for who you really are!"  
  
"Like I loved Voldemort?" Millicent asked, her voice dangerously soft.  
  
"Millicent, you didn't know any better. You didn't know he was evil. You didn't know-"  
  
"Yes, I did. I knew everything. Why else would he punish me? Why else would I punish myself? No matter what excuse you may make, I am nothing more than a weak child."  
  
"Of course you are! We all are children, Millicent! You can't expect to be anything other than what you were taught to be! People are a product of their enviroment, but they can change! Look at Harry! He spends all of his time in a cupboard under the stairs of his house when he isn't in school!"  
  
"And yet he has defeated Voldemort on more than one occasion. And what have I done, Hermione?"  
  
"You've escaped him! And saved Harry's life too!"  
  
"My intention was to kill him, Hermione."  
  
"Your intention was to save him from a fate worse than death, wasn't it? And you did! Just not the way you thought. And you don't have to worry about that anymore. Voldemort can't get you from here, and nobody cares."  
  
"You think very little of the influence Voldemort has. Allow me to remind you that Ron still seems to care. As do I."  
  
"Look, Ron's a silly git with a grudge. And Dumbledore is here! Voldemort is afraid to come to Hogwarts because Dumbledore is here! You do not have to worry about him!"  
  
"It is not him I am afraid of. It is his agents that I fear," said Millicent in her unnaturally soft voice reserved for moments of extreme emotion.  
  
"Who do you mean?" Lana demanded, looking as if she would track down and disembowel the agents herself.  
  
"Names are unimportant. Only the knowledge that my every move is being reported to him has relevance. I am only waiting for the order to terminate myself."  
  
"Millicent?" Hermione asked in confusion. She stared into Millicent's unfocused eyes. Unnerved, Hermione laid a hand on her friend's shoulder and shook her gently.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You. . . er, you fell asleep."  
  
"Sorry. Shall we finish our work?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, nodding slowly. Lana gave Hermione a look, but Hermione gave a slight shake of her head. This would have to be discussed later. 


	18. Grim Rumors

A/N: Clearly I haven't updated this in forever. And I wasn't going to. But I did anyway. Aren't you all so pleased?

It was pitch black all around. Not a light shone to see by. He could not even feel any surface beneath his feet. There were no smells, no tastes. But there was sound. It was like a cylinder, or perhaps more of a cyclone that pressed in around him, surrounding him with almost completely unintelligible noise. All that could be discerned were almost forgotten voices: the screams of a man, the sobbing of a young woman and the voice of a child, calling,

"Dada? Dada?"

"Too late Severus," said a hissing, all too familiar, voice.

Severus sat bolt upright in the dark of his chambers. Damn the child, he thought, angrily throwing off the duvet. He could not even have the satisfaction of unbroken slumber. Not since Remus had had the audacity to speak to him of her. Nothing he said about not caring had any effect on that damn werewolf.

"She isn't the same," Remus had insisted endlessly. "She's changed since I saw her. Something is wrong; I'm certain of it."

He would not shut up until Snape had snarled that he would look into it. Of course that sniveling dog would bring the problem to him. He never had the spine to face up to the real world and the dark arts were a large part of it.

In disgust at his inevitable train of thought, Severus threw a robe over his night clothes and stamped down the hallway to his library. The fire was burning cheerily, and he spared a parsimoniously kind thought for the house elves who had surely lit it. His high-backed armchair scooted up when he beckoned, and he threw himself into it, and into dark broodings.

The worst part of being cornered by Remus and being forced to listen to his crazy theories was that Snape had been watching the girl closely for a month. He hated every last molecule in her body, but Remus had been right, damn him. Something was wrong with her. Every text, even muggle ones, agreed that she ought to have chosen to be angry, sad, or cheerful. She was none of those things, even two years after the sundering of her partnership with Voldemort. She remained decidedly neutral, and all of her emotional responses were so negligible as to go undetected. The only response he suspected was in keeping with expectations was only a guess on his part.

Even if Voldemort could no longer reach her, there were ways and ways of controlling a person. Not all of them were magical, but Severus was convinced it was a magical control. Voldemort had never been one for leaving escape routes open to his victims.

Shoving himself up out his chair, he stalked over to his bookshelves. He waved a hand and said the password before picking a dozen books. With another wave, he turned and returned to his comfortable seat.

Three books later, Snape heard the damnable chime that announced he should be rising for the day. After a decent grumble, he left the chosen texts in a tidy stack and went to dress for the day. It was Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw third and fifth years today, so there would be times when he could sneak in another diagram or page of text. He felt he was on to something, and he would be damned if he was to be slowed down by mewling brats who ought to know better by now.

***  
In light of the escape of Sirius Black, and the fact that dementors were loose, supposedly searching for him, there was a certain amount of public trepidation. And a great amount of it was focused on Hogwarts and its uncertain safety protocols. So the Minister of Defense had called a hasty meeting of the staff, as well as Lucius Malfoy, to find out what, if anything, was being done. Presumptuous as it was, it was a necessary evil.

"The question the public is asking, Albus, is what you are doing to protect the students at Hogwarts," Fudge told the assembly. "And to be honest, I really don t see what I can tell them."

"That isn't your duty in the first place," McGonagall retorted.

"Now, Cornelius," began Albus, "I know that you are very concerned about the media distorting the facts. Which is why I will remind you, and the media, that Hogwarts has never been penetrated by any evil force, from the outside, since its founding. And, as you have ordered, Dementors are patrolling our grounds. Unless there is something important we do not know about Black, which would be surprising given how much time he has spent in your care, well, I see no real risk to the students of Hogwarts."

Albus gave Fudge a munificent smile, the kind that always bewildered the minister. While he sputtered, the clerk at his side leaned forward, eyes narrowed. She was the real danger to Dumbledore s position at this meeting. Even when she was his student, she had been far too perceptive.

"I agree that Hogwarts has never been penetrated from without. However, there are many well known examples, especially within the last few years, that suggest Hogwarts is extremely vulnerable once Black is within the grounds themselves. Need I remind you that Black is a former student? Surely you recall that during his years at Hogwarts, he and his trio of friends were well known for their ability to commit acts that have not been replicated since and to mysteriously rarely get caught?

"His knowledge of the layout of Hogwarts is, without a doubt, too great to be dismissed. Presuming then, that he does manage to escape the notice of the Dementors, the danger he presents to your students, Harry Potter in particular, is astronomical. What steps have you taken to ensure that Black cannot slip in, kidnap a student, and slip back out with that student in tow? Furthermore, how are you going to protect your staff? Both professors Lupin and Snape could very well be targets."

She nodded to Snape, and added, "He has already tried to kill Snape once, and came far too close. Tell me that you are thinking of their safety."

"Of course I am Owena," protested Dumbledore, but before he could expound on his actions, she started on another tangent.

"Speaking of safety, how are you guarding the students from the Dementors? We all know their appetites. I can think of only a handful of students who might be able to defend themselves from such an attack. In fact," she glanced significantly around the table, "Some of your staff might well be overwhelmed."

"And let us not forget," Lucius said smoothly, "The danger presented by Professor Lupin. It was only under protest that he was allowed here at all."

Owena snorted. "I am certain that Professor Snape will keep him properly supplied. I find that you spend too much time on the smallest worries."

Lucius glared at her, but Owena had endured his hate for no small amount of her life. Glares from him were almost friendly in comparison to some of the other things had had done. Thankfully, Fudge cut in before a verbal war could begin.

"That about covers all the concerns expressed by the press. As long as you have an answer to these- well, for the moment that should be enough. Just remember Albus, you can t possibly continue as Headmaster if your security is compromised."

The meeting broke up on that sour note. Owena spoke briefly with Lupin, and then moved over to Professor Snape. She waved a file folder at him to get his attention, and they walked down the staircase together.

"You know you're not allowed to ask to see these when you ve given up all paternal duties?" she asked cheekily.

"You brought them."

"You never ask me for anything. So of course I rushed to bring them. Uh-uh," she chided as he reached for them, "There are some social niceties to be observed, you know. How are you?"

"Frustrated," Snape growled. "And you?"

"Pleased as punch to see you, thanks for asking."

"Won t you get in trouble for letting me look at these?" Snape grumbled as he took the folder she now proffered.

"I'm a file clerk," Owena said, fluttering her lashes. "I have dozens of them open in my office all the time. I can t help it if people see them from time to time."

Severus leafed through until he came to the diagram he was looking for. It was rather like a blow, catching him off guard. He hated the girl. With every inch of his being. But this was still rather much to take.

"Not a pretty sight," Owena said quietly. "Think of it this way, at least it s not a picture."

"How old-" Snape coughed to steady his voice, "How long have they been there?"

"No way to tell. They were redone so many times, you see. I expect he taught her to do it herself. She wouldn t have had any means to resist."

"You knew," he accused, shocked by his anger. "You knew he did this to her."

"Yes," Owena replied. "And since I can guess you know what it is, you know why I didn t bother to point it out. There s only one cure, Severus. And it s not the kind of chance we should go looking for."

Still shaken from the depth of his anger, Severus stared right through her. He offered no resistance as she took the folder back from him. What this meant; all the things he would never have said if he had known. . . He sharpened his gaze at her and opened his mouth, but she shook her head.

"I didn t know until the trial, and I have no idea if Albus knew or guessed it before. I wouldn t put it past him to know it now, of course."

"You've never trusted him," Snape pointed out.

"I have my reasons," Owena said with a sudden intensity. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "What are you going to do about it, then? I expect it changes your perspective a bit."

Snape ignored the question. "You didn't tell me before this. Why?"

"You're too smart, you know. I would have told you, but I knew you had to come to this conclusion on your own. That and I was busy."

Snape opened his mouth to ask what she could possibly have been busy with, but closed it again when he saw Lucius come out from behind the gargoyle. He looked around and when he spotted Owena he made a beeline for her. Owena was blithely stowing the folder in her briefcase. Lucius stepped right up behind her and said,

"I see you're trying to seduce yet another man."

"Ever fishing, Malfoy," she said without looking up. "I seem to recall that a mutual friend of ours wouldn't like to hear you say that of me."

Malfoy paled a bit, but he went on doggedly, "You never were good enough for him. It suits you to be a slut."

Owena snapped the clasps of her briefcase. Then she turned and gave Malfoy a very bright smile. Snape took a step back, guessing there was about to be a very brief, but explosive scene.

"And yet, if I were a slut, surely I would have responded to your temptations. Maybe I should mention that minor fact to him." While Lucius shrank back, she leaned forward and hissed, "You are the one who was, and is, not good enough for him. And if you do not leave now, I will without hesitation rend you, and use your bits as decoration for my flat. Pleasure chatting with you," she finished in a tone of sweet menace.

"You should really stop letting Lucius make you speak of him," Snape advised in a low tone as Lucius made a dignified scramble for the nearest exit.

"I never apologize for love, Severus," Owena said in a business-like tone. "Now, please think a little better of your girl. I know you feel stupid, but don t let that make things worse between you, please."

Snape bowed to her rather stiffly, not prepared to let her see that he was even listening to her advice. Owena gave him a real smile, and then added,

"I had better go pull Fudge like a cork, before Minerva kills him. Well-deserved as it would be. Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Owena."


	19. Returned

In the end, it all happened in less than a breath. There were no gentle explanations; no mental preparation could be done. Before Snape could start to thaw toward his- as he now knew- helpless child, he found himself in the long-denied role. In less than a second, Neville Longbottom performed his first rescue, without even knowing what had happened.

Neville was, as ever, a shambles in Potions. Nevertheless, Professor Snape was reaching an all-time high in his career of scaring the daylights out of the boy. It probably had something to do with the boggart incident. Nothing Hermione did could calm Neville enough to make him focus on his cauldron.

Instead of sharing the table with Ron and Harry, as was usual, Millicent and Lana were on their right. Ron and Harry had been late, and were sharing a table with Seamus and Dean, who had not wanted to share their table with Voldemort's accomplice and the hippogriff girl- at least, not if they could point out a reasonable alternative arrangement. No one raised any objection to the change.

Millicent, directly to Neville's right, moved out of his way without acknowledging that he kept nervously bumping into her. She and Lana were an impressive team in any endeavor, being somehow always in tune with one another, but it probably was her native talent in Potions that made that class go smoothly for them every time. Lana often referred to herself as another Neville waiting to happen, but had a natural grace that Neville could not hope to have.

Snape had made two circuits of the classroom before returning once again to Ron and Harry's cauldron. Lana would have made a comment about how he passed over them repeatedly, but never aloud in his classroom. She did nudge Millicent with an elbow when he strode past them to Neville and Hermione for the third time. Her eyebrows were raised quite high, but Millicent went right on with the potion, tapping their place in her notes. Today's potion was a wart-remover, but if improperly prepared, it could be a skin-remover, or even cause a heart attack.

Lana made a face, but carefully counted her clockwise stirs in the potion. After twenty, she raised a finger. Millicent then added the powdered sulfur, too intensely involved even to wrinkle her nose. Trying to breathe through her mouth, Lana began to stir in the opposite direction, while Millicent timed her with a minute egg timer. As the last grain fell, Millicent nodded and they both peered into the cauldron.

The potion was an opalescent white, but was as thin as rice milk when Lana poured a measure into a vial. It no longer had a smell, and should, when applied to a wart, surround it in a shell that turned grey and slowly hardened over an hour, then collapsed in ashes after twenty seconds, taking the wart with the shell. As no one had a wart to be removed, it was anyone's guess as to whether or not it would work as advertised.

Lana walked their measure up to the professor's desk, meeting up with Hermione, Harry and Dean on the way. After several memorable disasters, Hermione had started turning in her own potions at Neville's urging. Therefore, there was nothing unusual in Neville still toiling away at his cauldron.

It was remarkable that most of the students were well clear before Neville had his most dangerous catastrophe to date. Ron and Seamus, figuring they were done, had already started to edge for the door. The Slytherins across the room had learned to stay tightly packed against the far wall, better enabling cheating as well as for some distance between them and Neville. The only people in front of Neville were the afore-mentioned trio at Snape's desk, comparing results. In the end, the only ones in danger turned out to be Neville, Snape and Millicent, who was waiting for Lana's return to clean the cauldron.

The bang, when it occurred, was possibly the most impressive one to date. An acrid gray smoke quickly followed it. Without being told, the students hit the walls and waited for instructions. Neville, who had more luck than most would believe, had fallen backwards over the desk behind him because he had jumped back in surprise and been caught in exactly the right way. Snape, who always saw this coming, had taken three big steps away from the cauldron when he saw the mixture turning black. He waved his wand and banished both the ruined potion and the smoke.

Everyone looked around, as much at themselves as each other, counting all their bits and pieces in relief. While the Gryffindors were thinking about requesting blast shields, the Slytherins were composing new taunts for Longbottom, and the letters they would send home. This lasted for a good five seconds before Lana spotted Millicent.

Millicent had always been pale, almost see-through in places. She was quieter than any other person most could think of. But she was never this still; never that shade of grey. Seeing her crumpled on the floor, Lana almost forgot how to breathe.

"Out! All of you!" barked Snape. "Miss Granger, go and fetch Madam Pomfrey."

Snape knelt over Millicent, feeling for a pulse. He looked up, nearly apoplectic at the students gaping at him. "I said, GO!"

He heard them scatter, like frightened deer, but they were not his concern. Even though he understood it was impossible, he checked for a heartbeat at Millicent's wrist. Not a beat could he detect, save for his own pulse that was racing faster than it should for someone he had promised himself he would never give a toss about. Strangely, as the anger left it was not replaced by fear, or even sorrow. Suddenly the thought hit him like a knife.

With the same silent swiftness that students cursed daily, he rose and went to his storeroom. There, dusty and neglected on the highest shelf, was a tiny potion phial. More than fifteen years had gone by since he had made it; he had counted it his greatest work at the time. But it was not something he had ever needed. Until this moment, he had not thought of it in almost as long.

Returning just as swiftly to Millicent's still form, Snape wiped the container quickly and pulled out the stopper. With one hand back on her wrist, he deftly transferred the contents of the phial to the index finger of his right hand. The almost infinitesimal dose hardly left a droplet on his finger, but that droplet he put on her lips. The liquid flared golden, then silver, and finally shone with a brilliant whiteness that stung his eyes like the sun.

"Whatever are you giving the child, Severus?" huffed Madam Pomfrey, already breathless from her swift descent to the dungeons.

He looked up, past the light, to her, and her attendant Gryffindor army. Naturally, Miss Granger had returned, and Miss Lionel- who was the kind of friend he himself had dreamed of having as a boy- but wonder of wonders, not only Potter, but Weasley had followed as well. Of course, Weasley was only there because Potter was. It appeared that in spite of the claims, Millicent was far from friendless.

He named the potion to Poppy, knowing she would understand. And her face softened at its mention, proving him right. She shooed her helpers back into the hall, and shut the door on them to prevent interference.

"Well, you are a sharp one, I have to say," was her only comment. She took out her wand (nine inches, yew, with the core of a unicorn's horn he recalled her saying once) and tapped Millicent's forehead. At once, a ghostly likeness of Millicent appeared directly above her, with multicolored lines and symbols all over it. Only a mediwitch could understand the whole meaning, but Snape saw some terribly recognizable shapes there, though they were fading as he watched.

"I think about now is a good time," said Madam Pomfrey, who had been watching the shapes as well as Millicent's brain, which was turning a deeper blue with every moment that passed. "Give her a jolt with me, Severus."

Together they applied an electric shock to Millicent's heart. Before even half a frown could develop on Madam Pomfrey's face, Millicent's heart began to beat again. Snape could hardly recall taking Millicent's hand, but he felt her pulse return with the greatest relief he had ever felt. Her first unconscious, coughing, stuttering breath was a music that cut him to his heart. Before he could begin to rebuild his normal indifferent shell, Poppy looked right at him and saw. He drew back, but she was far too practical to let him be emotional.

"Severus, for heaven's sake, help me get her up to the infirmary and sit with her while I get myself together. There's more to be done for the poor thing, otherwise we'll be looking at memory loss or brain damage."

She threw open the door, and sent the attendants off to find Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Professor Sprout- this last task she gave specifically to Potter and Weasley, because there was a list of things to be brought with Sprout at once to the infirmary, and Sprout would needs hands to help carry them. She held Miss Lionel back a moment and to say something softly to the girl, but what Snape could not hear. At last, she gave Snape a sharp nod, and they proceeded to the infirmary without further delay.

"Put her in a bed, and keep a sharp eye on her pulse and breathing. If anything changes, shout right out at once."

With those calm instructions, Madam Pomfrey bustled off to her stores, muttering a list under her breath. It was so like himself that Snape could not help but feel a surge of hope. When Poppy had said those terrible words, "brain damage," his heart had sunk unpleasantly. For everything else she had been, he had had some satisfaction in knowing that she was, at the very least, not stupid.

Snape knew, in an intellectual way, that love and hate were twisted versions of one another. He had read a thousand books that had proclaimed each came from the same place; that each was a form of the other; each a different expression with the same strength of feeling and need behind it. What no one had written was that it could swing from one to the other in less than a heartbeat as though on greased axles. Or that there would be a sudden realization of what drove the intensity to even higher levels over what were, truly, minor transgressions. It had never occurred to him that his own hate for Millicent was this overwhelming desire to have her be perfect- no, pure and flawless.

She carried in her a piece of him- several pieces, if muggle science was to be believed. Any flaw, he had known, was from him. And that guilt had driven him to hate her: for not being her mother, the woman he had believed to be perfect for so long; for making the same mistakes he had made, though now he understood that it was not the same; for looking so unlike either of them, and behaving so unlike either of them; for not being his child the way he had always dreamed. He had been so wrong and, as was his way, he had been too certain of himself to see past his own certainty to the way the world truly was.

"Severus, is she all right?" McGonagall asked, breaking into his thoughts with a breathless voice. Miss Lionel, he could see when he looked up, was right behind her, still pale and shaking slightly.

"Heavens, she'll be fine," said Poppy, before Snape could even venture a comment. "With Severus there, it was like working with myself, it was."

She pulled out two chairs and gestured for the professor and student to sit. As nothing escaped her sharp eyes, she put a sizable chunk of chocolate into the girl's hand and admonished her to eat that up before she did any more running about. Madam Pomfrey bustled up to Millicent and gave her another once over visually before nodding to herself and pulling up the covers snugly to the child's chin.

"We'll keep her nice and toasty until Sprout gets here," she said with satisfaction. "Then I'll have what I need to do a bit more management. I'd just wait and give her chocolate, you understand," she said aside to McGonagall, "But the child doesn't like it, and really, Sprout has some lovely amaryllis in her greenhouse."

"I didn't know that," McGonagall said, rather faintly, because mediwizardry was not a subject that she was familiar with, but Snape could see she welcomed the change of subject.

"Oh yes. Willow might do the trick for a fever, but there's nothing like a healthy amaryllis to get the blood moving properly when rubbed on the skin. Or course, the rubbing itself does some of the work- even muggles have noticed that."

While Poppy chattered away, more to herself than anyone else, Snape sat and held the wrist of his child, desperately hopeful that when he finally told her the whole truth, she would be able to understand even one word of it.


	20. Laid to Rest

That evening, while Hogwarts was riled up about the accident and attack on the Fat Lady, Snape found himself once again in Dumbledore's office. Because the four Gryffindors had all come to the infirmary, and Madam Pomfrey was too busy using them as extra arms, hands and legs to throw them out, no proper explanation had been given to the staff as to what, exactly, had happened. Snape knew very well that right now Miss Granger was looking up the potion he had named for Poppy, and if she did come across it, she would quickly explain it to all the students she could corner. Never before had he asked Dumbledore to put a muzzle on a student, but he was considering it seriously.

More annoying was the presence of Fudge, who claimed to "just happen" to be in the area. Owena was with him, reining him in as only she knew how. Madam Hooch, who was known to keep some spectacular whiskeys in her rooms, solved the problem by inviting Fudge for a nightcap. There was hardly a respectable pause for farewells before Fudge followed her out. Owena did not even bother to hide her smile.

"Thank goodness for Fudge's penchant for a good stiff drink," she commented. "Now then Albus, for the record if you please."

"I hope you understand that I cannot possibly provide the whole tale, as Poppy is still watching the child at the moment," Dumbledore said, giving her a characteristic twinkling smile. This did not faze Owena in the slightest.

"How about I sum it up for you, then?" she said brightly. Snape noticed that McGonagall gripped the arms of her chair, wisely bracing herself for some very bad news.

"For the last year," Owena began in an amazingly cheerful tone, "You have been hiding the fact that one of your students has been under one of the most powerful dark magics known to history. Not just from the public, because I doubt they had a right to know, but from this student, her professors, and the ministry. You even had the audacity to hide it from her father, who would have benefited from the knowledge.

"On your orders, Madam Pomfrey was prevented from testifying about the dark curse at this girl's trial. On your orders, the files that contained any information that could reveal this fact were to be destroyed. Also on your orders, Madam Pomfrey was not allowed to make any hint of the problem to any of your staff, or the child.

"And the worst part of all this," Owena said coolly, "is that the magic that has been holding her captive exonerates her completely. You, Albus Dumbledore, could have prevented the suffering she has gone through for this past year: the isolation from her fellow students, the time in Azkaban, and the indifference of her father."

"But what do you mean?" asked Professor Sprout in dismay. "The child wasn't under an Imperius Curse. Was she?"

"It was much worse than an Imperius," Owena told the dumbfounded staff. "Lucius Malfoy stole her soul."

In the shocked silence that followed, Snape grasped onto the only new fact Owena had revealed to him. While the others were staring at Owena with growing horror and shame, he was glowering at Albus with real anger. He had understood that the Headmaster had to have known, but how could he have kept the identity of the thief from him? The man had stolen her soul!

"But how do you know?" demanded McGonagall. "Not only that it was soul-stealing, but that it was Lucius?"

"Lucius was easy to deduce. Voldemort does not have a physical body, and he had not had one since he tried first to kill Harry. Harry Potter's encounter with him in his first year proved that to all of us. But we all know Millicent was kidnapped almost a year after that terrible night. Therefore, it had to be someone impersonating him. There are more than a few former Death Eaters that would know enough of his appearance to create a simulacrum. But who is the only adult she mentioned?"

"Malfoy," said Lupin, grimly. It occurred to Snape that the werewolf would be damning his nose at this point.

"Naturally. So I went- as I noticed you did, Albus- and had a look at one of the cottages Lucius owned. Owned until, I had come across in my files, the first of September last year. It could have been mere coincidence, naturally. But what I found inside was not."

And then Owena laid out the wizard photos; damning in their contents and so painful to behold when it was understood what they portended. Snape nearly could not look, but he forced his eyes to follow the lines and shapes painted on those plain white walls until they resolved into the horrific figures he guessed Millicent had painted. She would have had no other way to express what had been happening to her, if what he feared most was true.

Owena continued her explanation, rolling out horror after horror with little space to breathe between. "Millicent was, I can approximate, about fifteen months old when Lucius began the process. He would have made the first cuts: shallow, but deep enough to bleed. He would have then systematically redone them about once a month, deepening the wounds each time. And each time, he would drink the blood while it was still warm to create the bond. It takes around four years to for the magical channel to become a proper pathway, and even then it would have taken a wizard of Lucius's caliber another four, or even five years to be proficient enough to be confident in controlling her actions wholly while they were within a reasonable distance of one another."

"Then he could control her here?" asked Filch, not unreasonably appalled at the idea.

"Not unless he was here himself. He made a rather large mistake choosing to send her to Hogwarts, really. He could not control her over long distances, and he knew that. But he also did not have the necessary concentration to keep her under control while she still had possession of the smallest fragments of her soul. Which was why she was able, of her own volition, to help Remus when he asked for it.

"Capturing Remus was a stroke of luck as far as he was concerned. It meant he had a handy threat for both Remus and the girl to keep them quiescent. Of course, Lucius knew he could not fool Remus forever, so he rarely brought out his simulacrum, choosing instead to act as though he had been ordered to do whatever vile thing he planned up to torment Remus or Millicent.

"When Millicent managed of her own free will to help the escape, Lucius realized his control was not what he had envisioned. Probably he raced to his texts and discovered that control would take more time to master. In the meantime, he made do with the tools he has always been capable with: torture and coercion. Millicent would not be ready for whatever he had originally planned for some time.

"And then," Owena said, winding down, "along came Harry Potter, who prevented Voldemort from rising once again. Lucius was too incensed to think clearly, or he never would have concocted such a hair-brained scheme. He had, however, to let her go to Hogwarts, or else face Aurors on his property. So Lucius decided to try something new. He paid for her wand and through her performed several spells before he was convinced that his control was great enough to permit his mad plan. He miscalculated his control and her tenuous, but continued grasp on her own soul, luckily for Harry."

"But why?" asked McGonagall. "Why would he take Millicent?"

"Because he hates Severus. He's always been jealous. And he knew that Ravena had been with Severus around the time she got pregnant. If anyone asked, he could say it was punishment for her taking up with a muggle. But more than that, Malfoy had a good idea of the talents Millicent could possess, and thus he could possess, all in one stroke.

"Unfortunately for me, and everyone at this table, we can't prove it. Soul-stealing is best detected by centaurs, fae, or merfolk after the fact. The magical scars, ritually applied and redone monthly, have gone. I am grateful that, given the opportunity to save her at last, you took the initiative Severus. But it does mean that we'll never have a case against the bastard."

After a long silence, Sprout ventured, "But why did Severus only save her today? No offense Severus, but I thought if you knew you would have applied a cure at once."

"The trouble with that kind of thinking, professor, is that soul-stealing doesn't correct easily," Snape growled.

"I have some texts on the subject myself if you want to borrow them, Professor Sprout. The problem with soul-stealing is that once the grip is established, only at a time when the soul's grasp to the body is tenuous- such as when the person is near death- can the connection be broken. The connection, after all, is made through the body. Very few cures can be enacted swiftly enough to prevent total death. Interestingly, many muggle midwives who laid out the dead often performed variants that allowed the soul at least to find a peaceful death, rather than continued enslavement. By the by, Severus, what did you use?"

"Redemption," he admitted, hating himself for liking Owena too much to growl. He was a bit surprised to see Dumbledore looking at him in unabashed amazement.

"My boy, that would have taken-"

"Three years," he said, finding it in himself to sound haughty. "I started my sixth year."

He left out mention of the ingredients, and what they had cost him to obtain. Most of them were technically illegal, and those that were not ought to have been. It had been partly for those illegal components that he had joined the Death Eaters, in his pride not realizing that such things had a greater cost than mere galleons.

"You're lucky to have him," Owena said, shaking a finger at Albus in a way Snape found endearing. However, she turned back to him with a face so solemn he knew he was in for unpleasant news.

"The only thing I can't get a thorough answer to, Severus, is what happens to a person who has been restored. The best, and least understandable, answer I got is that the person goes back to the point at which they were before it all happened. But I'll be hornswaggled if I know what that means."

"Well," announced Madam Pomfrey behind them, "I have a pretty good idea what."

At her unexpected arrival, they all turned in their chairs to stare at her. And everyone present followed her meaningful look down to her left, where stood a cherubic-looking toddler with dark green hair like Ravena's, a chin that was clearly Snape's and Millicent's startlingly bright aqua eyes. Snape goggled with the rest; he could feel his jaw drop and his eyes pop out. With a remarkable sense of timing, and clear intentionality, the miniature Millicent said,

"Hi. Dada?"


	21. It's a Girl!

"Hi!" piped Millicent for the third time. It appeared to be her favorite word.

"Awww!" squealed more than half of the assembled school, which was interesting because less than half of the school was female.

Dumbledore had given up trying to get out his explanation, because every time Millicent spoke the students would giggle or squeal at her adorableness. And she was undeniably adorable, even with dark green hair and bright aqua eyes. She was about, as Owena had guessed, fifteen months old. Smiling at everyone with equal delight, Millicent spoke in sweet tones to anyone who ventured a comment in her direction. There was speculation at the staff table as to whether or not Severus had been then same at that age, though this was done in whispers to keep that professor from realizing what was being said.

The only person Millicent was genuinely interested in was Severus, but surprisingly Lana Lionel turned out to be wonderful with babies and Millicent had taken up residence in her lap. From there she held court, doling out smiles to the worthy, which turned out to be anyone and everyone present.

It was, or it was supposed to be, breakfast time in the Great Hall. Muffins and bagels paled in comparison to this unexpected reaction to magic, however. It was a rainy Saturday, without even a Quidditch match to distract the students. On Lana's orders, the students shuffled around so that everyone could get a look at Millicent without shoving or crowding.

There were a few notable absences. Draco Malfoy was pointedly sitting in his usual seat and looking very hard in the opposite direction from the Gryffindor table. Crabbe and Goyle sat with him. A few of the older boys were pretending they were too cool to get excited about some wee kid. And even Ron Weasley had been divested of his usual seat next to Harry when he declared he was not interested in babies. His sister Ginny had ordered him to "budge up, then," and he found himself at the Hufflepuff table. Soothing his injured feelings with an extra pastry, he grumbled to himself about Millicent's amazing luck.

As they shuffled around, the students did not just speak to Millicent. They also asked questions of Lana, wrongly thinking she would have some idea as to what was going on. She tended to deflect them, or else shrug the questions off.

"When do you think she'll change back?" asked Seamus. Hermione, who had a permanent spot on Lana's right, frowned but made no comment.

"Never, I hope," Lavender Brown said cheerfully. "She's much cuter this way."

"Oh yes, very cute," Lana agreed, looking at Ginny sidelong. Ginny, who had Ron's spot next to Harry and was not complaining about it, took her cue effortlessly.

"Smashing. So I guess you'll volunteer for nappy duty then- eh, Lavender?"

"Ugh!" said Lavender, making a face. "Okay, she can grow up again. After a bit."

"Nah," said Fred, giving Millicent an impudent wink, "You stay small and then you can smuggle for us. What do you think of that?"

"Umm, no!" was Millicent's well-timed response, producing gales of laughter. Looking around in wonder at the laughing students, Millicent then said, "Oh." More laughter followed.

"How come her hair isn't the same?" Colin Creevey managed to ask from behind the twins.

"That I don't know," Lana said, "But I'll ask Professor Snape and let you know."

"Don't sacrifice yourself for his sake," George mock-pleaded, down on one knee. "Anything but that!"

More students shuffled around to the front, telling the Gryffindors not to monopolize their fellow student just because she was in their house. Most were too shy to ask any questions of Lana. Instead, they talked to one another about the remarkable magical accident and how Millicent's new state reminded them of home and family.

"She reminds me of my baby sister," remarked a first year Ravenclaw boy to his friend. "Now I can't wait to go see her over the holidays."

"My brother was that sweet," said a sixth year Hufflepuff to her boyfriend. "Why don't they stay cute?"

Harry, who had the privilege of an uncontested seat on Lana's left, had the even greater privilege of being the one who Millicent was holding on to. He had offered her a hand up when she had been trying to get into Lana's lap and Millicent had never let go. While he enjoyed being someone she kept bringing her smile back to, Harry did wonder if Millicent remembered him at all. But because he could not recall ever being so close to someone so young before, he was more fascinated with her physical form. Her tiny hands were shockingly strong, for example.

"Are you all quite finished?" came Snape's growl from the back. Millicent looked up over the students and smiled at him. She was the only one who did. The standing students quickly scattered. Harry braced himself for a stormy tirade.

"Daddy!" squealed Millicent. "Up!"

Harry knew he was not the only one staring as the professor's expression gentled. Snape leaned down and lifted his daughter out of Lana's lap. To everyone's continued amazement, he cradled Millicent while she smiled adoringly up into his face and he smiled back. Then she lifted herself up and announced,

"Kisses!" And she gave the professor a very loud smack on his cheek. Someone in the back of the crowded Gryffindor table gave a suppressed snort.

As Snape's eyes narrowed at Harry suspiciously, Lana leaned in his direction and muttered, "Run for it."

Harry snatched up his bag and scrambled to his feet. The rest of the table followed as fast as they could, with the exception of Lana. Over the thunder of feet, Harry distinctly heard Lana telling Snape,

"You can't yell in front of babies, sir. It frightens them, and that's very bad for their developing psyche, you know."

"That Lana is bloody brilliant," Ron gasped to Harry as they slowed down. "Making up that stuff about Psycheseses- well, whatever it was."

"The psyche," Hermione said to Ron in disgust as she caught up to the pair, "Is a very real part of the human consciousness. And yelling in front of children, particularly when they cannot make a connection between the yelling and the act that caused it, can be very disorienting. Doing it too much can permanently damage a child before they've even learned to walk."

"Millicent's doomed then," Ron said dismissively. "No way Snape can not yell while she's there. Blimey! Do you think she'll be with him all the time?"

Harry envisioned Millicent sitting on Snape's desk during Potions class. It was a definite improvement over current conditions. Before he could decide if it would improve Snape's mood any, Hermione cut in,

"She can't possibly be in classes with him. Haven't either of you ever seen a toddler in action? It's like watching a demolition team."

"Aw, c'mon 'Mione," Ron protested. "She's two feet tall. She can hardly reach anything dangerous."

Harry was suddenly reminded of Dobby, who was not that much bigger than Millicent. "Er, Ron-"

"No, don't you buy it, Harry. No way can someone that small make trouble."

"Glad you think so," Lana said breathlessly behind them. "Because I've just convinced Professor Snape to let me keep her until he finishes his rounds tonight."

Millicent, who was safely installed on Lana's hip, beamed at the trio. Nothing seemed very terrible about the situation, but Harry could see Hermione's look of horror forming. Unlike Ron, he was not surprised when Hermione blurted out,

"But why would you do that?"

"Because I think I'd make a pretty good babysitter until Millicent gets better. Unless you'd rather Snape went with the other candidate?"

"What other candidate?" demanded Ron.

"Draco Malfoy," Lana told him grimly.

"What?" roared Ron. "But he's a boy!"

"Really?" asked Hermione sarcastically, "I never would have guessed."

"But he would see- I mean when he had to change- it's not right," Ron finished in a mumble. Seeing the three of them looking at him with interest, he turned bright red and blurted out, "He'd see her- you know- if he changed her nappies. You can't tell me that's right!"

"I cannot wait for you to have children of you own," Lana remarked. "It will be an education, to say the least. ANYway, I've already fixed it with Professor Snape, and Millicent is going to be with me for the rest of the day. I'd scramble in a minute, though, because he's bringing me a bag and I don't think Ron would live through the instructions he's sure to give me. Could he Milly-willy?"

This last was addressed to the dark-haired baby, who was trying to squirm out of Lana's arms. Millicent looked up at her and demanded, "Down. Milly down."

"Milly-willy?" asked Harry aghast. "Milly is okay, I guess. But Milly-willy sounds like something Peeves would say."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Gosh, Lana, don't give the Slytherins ideas."

"Good grief, you two. She's a baby," Hermione said in exasperation.

"Not forever," Harry said firmly. "Professor Dumbledore said so- well, he tried to anyway. You are too cute to be upstaged, even by Dumbledore."

Millicent was clearly delighted with this compliment. She held her arms out to Harry and he obliged by taking her from Lana. She was surprisingly heavy. The first thing she did was make a grab for his glasses. While the others laughed at his inept dodges, Millicent got a very determined look on her face and just for a moment, she really did look like Snape.

"I bet you did the same thing to your dad," Lana said, getting her giggles under control. "Just tell her no, firmly."

"No Millicent," Harry said weakly as she made another grab. "No, don't do that."

"For heaven's sake," Hermione grumbled. She caught Millicent's chin in her hand and made the baby look at her. "No, Millicent. That is a no."

Millicent pouted, and Harry was very tempted just to give her his spectacles. What could she possibly do that was worse than what had already been done to them? But Lana saw his look and shook her head at him sharply.

"Once you tell her no, you can't change your mind. Otherwise, she won't ever listen to you. Consistency is key to building a good relationship with children. They want to know they can trust you. And you have to set boundaries, or they won't feel safe."

"How do you know all that?" Ron demanded. "Is there a book or something?"

"Hundreds," the girls said together and they shared a grin.

"You really have to learn from experience, though. And from mums and dads. My mum has been making me baby-sit since I turned ten," Hermione explained.

"And I've been doing it ever since I could boss other kids," Lana said cheerfully. "Since my mum and dad traveled a lot as magical ambassadors, I'd get left with all the other foreign kids and somebody would have to be in charge or else we would have overrun the au pairs they hired. Poor girls didn't know they were going to be stuck with ten to twelve little kids who maybe didn't understand their language at all."

"That sounds horrible," said Ron, who was clearly envisioning ten Fred and Georges.

"I never had much trouble," said Lana with a shrug. "Oops, there's Professor Snape."

And as the boys turned, Snape came striding up, making hardly any noise in spite of his large stride and rippling robes. The only abnormality in the picture was the somewhat dusty nappy bag he was holding at arms-length. It had storks on it. Millicent once again squealed as she spotted him. Apparently Snape had a fan, Harry thought. Only the one, but she was clearly devoted.

"Here is the bag you requested, Miss Lionel," Snape said tightly. Apparently unwilling to glare in Millicent's direction, he was avoiding eye contact with Harry entirely.

"Thank you Professor. When can I expect you to pick her up?"

"I will be finished at midnight. But you will be in bed-"

"Oh, that's no problem, sir." Lana's tone was completely businesslike. "Millicent and I will just camp out in the common room until you're ready for her. Would you like her to sit with you at meals, or would you prefer that I take care of that as well?"

"She will sit with me, if that is not a problem," Snape said with less tightness. Harry thought that Lana's seriousness was working. He wondered if calming anxious parents was something else she had learned.

"Of course it isn't a problem. Do you allow snacks between meals? Or was she not usually hungry? And, she's certainly too young for peanut butter, milk and grapes, but does she have any allergies that you know of? I wouldn't forgive myself if I accidentally gave her something she can't take."

"She has no allergies that I am aware of. And she may eat lightly between meals, but only if she is hungry."

"Naturally," Lana said smoothly, as though she were writing all of this down. "And what was the usual procedure if she fell down, or got a bump? Kisses and band-aids? Or would you just ignore the minor bumps so as not to upset her?"

"Ravena preferred kisses," Snape admitted, looking a bit overwhelmed. Ron was gaping, and Harry could guess that his own eyes were round. He determined to get down to the library as soon as possible to find a book of instructions. There had to be a manual for children somewhere.

"Very good. Reassurances are very good for children her age. Are there any taboo subjects you feel she is too young to hear about that might be out of the common? Obviously I wouldn't swear or use inappropriate gestures in her presence, or talk about certain intimate acts, but would it upset you if I used the proper term for parts of her body, or described for her in general what I was doing while I changed her nappies?"

Ron had gone beet red and put his hands over his ears. Hermione gave him a scathing look, but Harry was beginning to understand what Ron had been so upset about when he had heard Draco had volunteered for this job. Also, Harry was starting to feel a little panicked. How on earth were they going to remember all these things and why was Lana even asking them?

He glanced down at Millicent who gave him another sweet smile. Ron may just have been wrong when he said toddlers could not be any trouble. She had not even done anything yet and Harry's head was spinning. What would she be like when they let her feet touch the floor?


	22. Bedtime Story

A/N: This is just fluff. Nothing really plot-moving. But fun! Christmas Chapter coming before Christmas.

"I don't see why we can't give her a chocolate frog," Fred complained.

"Because a. she doesn't like chocolate, and b. she's too young for sweets that aren't nutritious," Lana explained calmly.

"You wouldn't want her to get cavities in her baby teeth, would you?" Hermione asked. "The eating habits she forms now will determine a lot about her future health, you know."

"That's what dad said about feeding Ron to the Venomous Tentacula," George grumbled. "Sorry Milly. Guess you'll just have to put up with raisins and celery. There can't be anything fun about that."

Millicent, who was enjoying being tossed between the twins a bit like a football, did not seem to mourn her lack of candy. This struck Harry and Ron as a bit strange. Because while all sweets and swearing were forbidden, Lana pretty much let the students pass Millicent around as if she was candy. Clearly, there had to be something wrong with throwing a toddler from person to person like a game of hot potato, but Lana said the stimulation was good for her, and no one who dropped her would live to feel Snape's wrath.

The twins proved to be, aside from Ron, Harry, Hermione and Lana, the most devoted of Millicent's new friends. She had charmed them from the start, and George admitted that even if she would not help them smuggle goods she was worth spending time with. As well as tossing Millicent around, they also engaged her in games of chase (either as the object of the chase, or as the chaser) and encouraged her to watch Ron slaughter Harry's chessmen and give the winner a kiss, much to Ron's endless embarrassment. And while neither of them would lift a finger to change a nappy, they were good for any other activity, including watching Millicent while Lana took fifteen minutes to herself about twice a day.

Lana had become, without contest, Millicent's official nanny. Draco had stood no chance, really. Lana was smooth and professional in all her dealings with Snape. She even, with the blessing of her teachers, brought Millicent along to classes and busied her charge with crayons and paper as well as a toy wand that she "practiced" with during Transfiguration and Charms. And while Snape probably hated it, he consented for her to attend Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. He put his foot down against Care of Magical Creatures, but Lana herself had already previously vetoed the idea to Hagrid's face.

"Even flobberworms are dangerous in a toddler's hands, Hagrid," she had told him gently. "Think of the poor worms. I'll bring her 'round on weekends to see you and Fang. You'll like that better."

It did worry Lana a bit that Snape did not spend as much time with Millicent as she did. However she and Hermione both agreed that the fact that Millicent clearly spent her nights in Snape's bed (always against his wishes, he claimed) was a good sign and good for her mental health. Lana felt it was, for the moment, out of bounds to call him to task for spending too little time bonding with Millicent. There were plenty of hopeful signs, like the fact that he refrained from yelling in front of her, or the time she had splattered him with pureed peas because she refused to eat them and he had simply let it pass.

Hermione had too much homework to spend any significant amount of time with Millicent, but that did not prevent Millicent from trying. Most nights she would climb right into Hermione's lap and listen raptly for fifteen minutes to Hermione explaining rune translations or the uses of moonstones before she slid down and sought out more active fun. Lana did get help from Hermione in the form of a planner, which Harry and Ron had scoffed at. She, on the other hand, had thanked Hermione profusely. To the boys' bewilderment, she stuck to the schedule as best she could, which included brushing Millicent's teeth without magic every night precisely fifteen minutes before bedtime.

"All right Millicent, time for teefies," Lana called.

"What's the point in cleaning them if she's just going to get another set?" Fred asked.

"Spoken like a boy who's been to Madam Pomfrey twice this year with toothaches," Hermione muttered loudly from her corner.

"It's habit forming," Lana said, divesting George of Millicent. "We'll do teefies; wash faces, brush hair and get in jammies and then you can have story time, Millicent."

"Sleepin' pwincess," Millicent demanded. Ron groaned.

"Doesn't she like any other story? We've heard that one twenty times already," he complained to Harry. Harry shrugged expressively.

"Maybe it reminds her of herself," he suggested, the way he had for the last week.

"Harry, there is absolutely no evidence that Millicent remembers- or would remember- any of what happened to her. She probably just likes the picture," Hermione said, word for word what she had been saying to Harry for the past seven days.

"You lot sound like a broken record," George commented.

"Hmm, you're right, brother of mine. That gives me an idea, in fact." And the twins disappeared upstairs to the boy's dormitory, obviously plotting someone's downfall.

The rest of the common room took their cue from the twins. They had also been forced to listen to the story of the sleeping princess, and none of them had any particular interest in hearing it for the twenty-first time. Before Lana returned with a bedtime-ready Millicent, the common room was empty except for Hermione, Harry and Ron. Ron would have gone up, but he was still hoping for Hermione to take pity on him and his disastrous Potions essay. He was going to be disappointed.

Lana, also clad in her pajamas, reached into the nappy bag and brought out what was jokingly known as "the book." Millicent chose Harry's lap tonight; she had a fairly even rotation, though Ron was slightly less favored. Sometimes Ginny would stay downstairs, and Millicent was not averse to using her as a pillow should the opportunity present itself. Harry was pretty fond of that picture himself.

"Here we are. The legend of the sleeping princess," Lana announced, with no sign that she had lost any interest in the story at all.

"Piture," Millicent said firmly.

"Here is the picture. Who is in the picture, Millicent?"

"Pwincess," Millicent said diligently.

"And what is the princess doing in the picture?"

"Sleepin'."

"That's right. Very good. Our story begins in a time before wizards and witches agreed to keep themselves hidden from muggles. It is a time when witches and wizards were feared by muggles, because they could not tell the good from the bad. And even the best of the good ones were sometimes tempted to be-" Lana looked at Millicent.

"Naughty!" Millicent finished the sentence with glee.

"So it happens in this story. There was a king of a small little kingdom. He was a muggle, but not a bad king as they go. He had just one very bad habit." Lana gave Millicent another look.

"He bwagged," she filled in obligingly. Ron had put his fingers in his ears in desperation.

"And one day the king started to brag about his little daughter. She was a very pretty princess, it was true. And she was kind and good and smart and well behaved and all the things muggles wanted their princesses to be. But like her father, the princess had a wee problem."

Another look was exchanged, and Millicent supplied, "She talked lots."

"The princess just could not maintain a proper balance in conversation. She had to talk about everything: the weather, the animals, her embroidery and anything else that popped into her head. And no one could get a word in edgewise."

Here Lana passed the book to Harry, who was to finish the story. He tried not to see the glares Ron was giving him. "One day the king bragged about his daughter to a man he did not really know- this being something muggle kings just had to do for no good reason- and this man was a wizard. Well, the wizard heard what the king had to say and, being a wise wizard, he also guessed that some of it was, shall we say-"

"Inflated!" Millicent cried happily. Harry carried on,

"The wizard decided to disguise himself and come see this little princess for himself. So he came as a foreign nobleman and found himself seated, as he hoped, right next to-"

"The pwincess," said Millicent, clearly in the throes of delight as Harry now held up the book, as was customary, to display the next picture of the princess talking to the wizard who wore an expression similar to Ron's.

"Well, that princess just carried on and on and hardly a word could the wizard get in on his own behalf. Finally, the wizard was so tired of hearing her talk that he decided to pay back the king for forgetting to mention his daughter's problem. He slipped a sleeping potion into her drink and was very pleased to see her start to doze off. And he left that very night, not realizing that-" and Harry waited for Millicent. She did not disappoint.

"The pwincess was still sleepin'!" If Ron had had a hat, he would be trying to climb into it.

"And the princess slept on and on, for ten whole years. The king sought, in vain, for a prince or third son -no one knows why muggles do this, but they do- who could break the spell. At last, came the-"

"Poshin Man," Millicent said.

"There was a wizard whose specialty was potions, and he knew at once that the princess was suffering from too strong a dose of sleeping draught. He offered his services free of charge to the king, but the king was having none of that. Muggles have very strange rules, and the potions master would have to marry the princess or else he would not be allowed to save her. Well, the princess had grown up a bit and she was even prettier than she had been, or else we all doubt the wizard ever would have agreed to such a thing."

"But he did!" Millicent insisted, as she always did.

"The potions master mixed up the antidote, and with his finger -don't listen to the muggles, there was no impropriety here- he carefully applied it to her lips. And the princess awoke. She heard everything her father and the potions master had to say and -the potions master must have been quite handsome himself- agreed at once to marry the wizard. Strangely the long sleep seemed to have been the cure for her talkativeness, or else she had simply outgrown it while she was asleep."

"An' they got married," Millicent said. Ron dumped all of his things into his book bag at once and sprinted upstairs to avoid hearing the ending.

"And they had wonderful wedding, which many witches and wizards attended and livened up quite considerably. All the muggles agreed the shooting stars were spectacular. And in time the princess and the potions master had seven children, each one cuter than the last, and all of them wonderful witches and wizards in their own right."

Harry then held up the last picture, which had the princess all grown up and far too beautiful to be real, alongside her wizard husband who looked darkly handsome, and in front of them seven disgustingly adorable children (which was the picture Ron objected to the most) looking absolutely innocent of any real thought.

"The end," Harry and Lana said together.

"Again!" begged Millicent, but Lana and Harry were both shaking their heads.

"Oh no. One time only. Them's the rules, missy," Lana said cheerfully. "Now give Hermione and Harry a kiss goodnight and hop up on the couch."

Millicent did so pleasantly, though when she got to the couch she was pouting. Lana ignored her sulks and covered her up with the blanket. It had come from Snape and had bright yellow ducks on it. Everything Snape gave Lana to use was so completely incongruous with Snape himself that Harry was pretty certain this stuff was chosen by Millicent's mother.

"Are you comfy?" Lana asked.

"Yes," Millicent said.

"Nice and warm?"

"Yes."

"Then wipe off that frowny face," advised Lana, "Or nobody will know."

Millicent tried to fight it, but she giggled. Harry and Hermione collected their things and said goodnight one more time before heading up to their dormitories. Until Professor Snape asked Cadogen to let him in, Lana would sit or doze at the end of the couch. Cadogen's challenges, she had confided to the others, usually woke her up even if she had dozed off.

As Harry laid down in his bed that night, he did wonder when Millicent was going to change back. It was already almost the holidays and there was no sign that she was any older at all. Whenever he asked Lana about it Hermione sniffed audibly, but she was not supplying any answers either. And while Harry liked baby Millicent very much, he wanted to see Millicent as herself again. He thought, as he drifted toward slumber, that seeing her realize how much things had changed for the better would be a real treat.


	23. Gifts Received

A/N: This chapter is huge! And the next chapter will be the last!

Christmas morning, while generally far too cheerful for his tastes, was a bit different for Severus this year. For one thing, it started impressively early. Millicent had shown no interest whatsoever in toilet training yet, but when he rolled over and discovered she was not sleeping next to him at four in the morning, his panicked search ended in the bathroom. She had taken off her diaper and was blissfully seated on the toilet with that damnable book of children's stories open on her lap.

Confounded, Severus just started blearily at her. She turned a page. He kept staring, hoping that eventually the scene would make sense. Apparently unaware of his presence, Millicent closed the book and put it on the back of the toilet. She got a bit of toilet paper and wiped herself. Then she hopped off the toilet and flushed. She turned around and grinned at him.

"Milly big girl!" she announced.

"Right," Severus said stupidly. "Where did you learn. . ?"

"Lana," answered Millicent happily.

"Ah. Of course. I should start paying her, I suppose," Severus muttered. Then he caught up with events a bit and added, "That's wonderful. I'm very proud of you. Let's put a new nappy on."

Three hours later, absolutely against his will, Severus was seated in the staffroom while the rest of the staff was cheerfully showering Millicent with affection, presents and probably sweets. His glowers did nothing to stop them. Millicent, in her pajamas because Dumbledore had said that no child should be dressed before noon on Christmas, was fascinated with the whole spectacle. She kept bringing her presents to show him. It softened Severus's heart somewhat to recall that her last real party had been twelve years ago and there was no chance that she remembered it.

"See, Dada, see!" Millicent insisted. He looked down at her. She was holding something furry and, he prayed, not alive.

"What is that?" Severus demanded.

"Bunny," she told him, and he saw with relief it was just a toy.

"Yeh can't have too many little animals to love when yer a kid, professor," Hagrid said. Severus privately resolved to boil the thing before letting Millicent handle it again.

"Naturally. She has a cat, however, and I think that is enough live animals for the moment." The cat was around somewhere, he was fairly certain. It came around when Millicent was sleeping for the most part but why it bothered he could not guess, because all it ever did was try to climb his legs like a tree and no amount of shouting could make it stop.

"Pwetty," was Millicent's next comment, and she was showing him dress-up clothes from McGonagall and Pomfrey and Sprout. These included fake tiaras and necklaces, the sparkle from which was practically blinding. Severus could not see the need for such things, resolutely ignoring the memory of the blanket he had worn around his shoulders non-stop for nearly four years and his mother had to pry off of him to wash. The ladies certainly looked pleased at Millicent's admiration, however, so he declined to comment.

"Sof' Dada," Millicent exclaimed over Madam Hooch's more practical gift of a scarf, hat and gloves. That they were disgustingly pink could be forgiven. After all, most things her size were either pink or that hideous baby blue. Severus even ventured a comment that could be taken to mean he was grateful.

Lupin, who was due to start his transformation, nevertheless came by to give Millicent a gift. As much as Severus hated the wolf he would not say anything nasty in front of Millicent, so he did not make even one snippy comment in his direction. He also pretended not to see his daughter climb up into Lupin's lap by glaring into the fire until he could hardly see anything.

Dumbledore was the last to give Millicent a gift. He gave her a miniature maiden painted in exquisite detail that, when Millicent held it, sang her an elven lullaby. Almost at once, her eyelids began to droop. She wandered back over to Severus and minutes later she was fast asleep, much to everyone's pleasure.

The one thing that impressed Severus the most was the fact that not a single staff member had commented at all on his change in behavior. Any one of them could have pointed out his hypocrisy, but there had been no wagging fingers. There was not even the slightest edge in their voices when they spoke with him. Perhaps they understood that it was easier for Severus to let himself love this child, who was more recognizable as the girl he had lost more than her older self could ever have been.

Eventually most of the staff had exchanged gifts and they began talking amongst themselves quietly, mindful of Millicent's sleeping presence. Severus was debating whether lifting her up would wake her. Then there was a knock at the door. McGonagall rose to open it.

"Happy Christmas, professor." Lana Lionel stood in the doorway, her face full of mischief. "Is Professor Snape here?"

"Of course he is, dear. Is it just you?" McGonagall asked suspiciously.

"Oh yes." Lana grinned slyly. "Just me and a bunch of chickens, looking for Millicent."

"Oi!" Snape heard Ron Weasley shout indignantly. He also heard passable chicken imitations, which surely meant the terrible twins. What had he done to deserve this?

"Well, you had best come in, I suppose. But do keep your voices down. Especially you, Ronald." Severus did have the pleasure of seeing Weasley's pained expression before he came in, followed by Miss Granger, Potter, and the twins.

Lana, being the most direct and apparently the least afraid, came right over to him. Out of respect for Millicent, she kept her voice low. "Could we give Millicent her presents today, professor? It won't take long."

"Very well." Severus tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, knowing it would wake his daughter.

"At your convenience, then, sir." Lana gave him another cheerful smile and went to join the others at the staff table where they were discussing various gifts received. Miss Granger had, for some reason, cornered Hagrid. Perhaps she was going to drop his class. The thought cheered him up slightly.

Effectively trapped in his corner, Severus had to sit by the fire for another twenty minutes before the Gryffindors left. He privately resolved never to have another celebration without first making certain no one knew it was happening. Unfortunately, he could not even escape the staffroom, because every time he shifted Millicent would stir. He looked like a fool, but he had no choice but to leave her be and continue to sit morosely in his seat.

It was well past lunch (and he would kill Dumbledore later for giving him that damn wizard cracker) when Miss Lionel brought the group down to his chambers to see Millicent. Each student bore a package, except for Miss Lionel who had two. In the interim, Miss Granger had done something to alienate herself from both Potter and Weasley, but Lana pointedly ignored this fact. With the exception of Miss Lionel they were all, he was pleased to note, somewhat uncomfortable being in his chambers. Millicent, blissfully ignorant as only a child can be, greeted all of them with equal enthusiasm.

His chambers had been somewhat taken over by Millicent's things. These included a playpen near his desk- not so near that she could reach anything on the desk- a tiny bookshelf for her colorful and tacky books, and the usual detritus of toys he had yet to pick up. Added to his own sparse furnishings, they added a disgusting amount of chipper color to the rooms. He kept to himself the fact that he had saved all of these things since Millicent had first disappeared. Given her surprisingly sharp mind, however, Severus suspected Miss Lionel was aware of the fact.

Miss Lionel, whose parents were magical ambassadors and dragged her all over the world, had apparently taken the initiative in the gift buying. She explained that they had discussed what Millicent seemed to be lacking and made a list of what they wanted her to receive. Most likely bullied quite efficaciously by Lana, everyone had put their money in a pot and Lana's parents had been sent on the expedition.

"And my mum and dad couldn't resist buying her something," Lana finished, looking more amused by the minute. "Oh, and my dad said to say hello to you and he asks that you don't mention to anyone what he did in fifth year."

Severus raised his eyebrows, and she added, "Oh, I already know. Mum can't not mention that kind of thing."

She looked at Fred and George and they presented Millicent with two identical packages. Having prior experience, Millicent now knew to tear off the paper instead of admiring it. Inside each package was a small mirror.

George explained that in one, Millicent could look and say the name of any animal to see her reflection with some features of that animal. In the other, Fred told them, Millicent could see herself with any feature of another person she named. To demonstrate, they invited Millicent to say bunny. Her refection then sprouted the ears and nose of a rabbit. Severus was fairly certain this was a calculated attempt to drive him mad.

Potter gave Millicent a silver dressing gown with a black cat on the pocket and matching sparkly slippers. Millicent put them on at once. Since Lana's parents had done the shopping, Severus could pretend that they were the ones who decided on a slightly large size for her to grow into. He suspected that their daughter might have been the one to remind them, however.

Ron's gift was more thoughtful than Severus would have expected. Inside the tiny package was a glowstone, the kind that shone more brightly the darker its surroundings became. Since Severus kept his chambers fairly dim, it was already turning a silvery white.

Miss Granger gave Millicent a package that turned out to contain three sets of pajamas and a new pink toothbrush with a white cat on it and matching toothpaste- the last being from her parents. Millicent was far more interested in the pajamas, which had horses and princesses printed on the fabric and were brimming with lace and bows. With difficulty, Severus kept his horror to himself. Ravena would never have given Millicent such clothes, sharing his repulsion to all things overtly feminine.

"This is from my parents, Millicent," Lana said, giving Millicent the smaller of the two packages. Millicent opened it with some difficulty to reveal a pair of necklaces, each a tessellation of the other and printed with the runes for parent and child. Shocked at the cost of such a gift, Severus gave Lana a sharp look. She merely shrugged at him.

"Mum lost me for half a day in Mongolia once. I think she wanted to give you some security. This one is for you, Millicent," Lana said, opening the clasp of the necklace. "You wear it all the time and then Daddy can always find you."

Severus took his without protest, knowing that it meant he would have to thank Lana's parents personally. He also knew that it meant that Lana's emotional involvement with his daughter was deeper than he had thought. Which would mean another expression of gratitude, damn the girl. He really was going to have to start paying her.

"And this is from me. My aunt helped me find the best one and blow it up." Lana shot a glance at Potter. "Harry gave me the idea, really."

Millicent tore off the last bit of paper and stared. Severus almost choked. Somehow, the girl had found a picture from his wedding and enlarged it. There was Ravena, smilingly sweetly and dressed in the white blouse that had been her grandmother's. And there, argh, there he was in black robes with a stupid smile on his face, looking more at Ravena than the photographer. They were so young, married just after graduation. Days after, he recalled now, Lily and James Potter had been married.

"See, Mama!" Millicent waved the picture at him in amazement. He caught it before she could lose her grip and send it flying.

"Yes, that is a picture of your mother. Miss Lionel," he began, somewhat painfully. But she cut him off.

"My aunt said you'd either kill me, or invite me to dinner. I'd rather neither, if you don't mind sir. Happy Christmas. Come on you lot, we're intruding."

Lana marched the Gryffindors out, making shooing motions with her hands. Grateful for the privacy and at the same time afraid of the solitude, Severus picked Millicent up. She squirmed in his arms and asked,

"More Mama?"

"Of course." He sat them in his high-backed armchair and held the photo up for her to see. For how long he sat there while she quietly ran her fingers over their faces he did not know. He jerked up when someone tumbled out of his fireplace.

"Ow. Should have guessed you'd have the fire lit, shouldn't I? Hello Severus. Happy Christmas," Owena added as an afterthought.

"What-"

"Oh, I figured I'd come and see if you'd killed my niece yet. Because you certainly can't have her to dinner. That would be most inappropriate for a teacher, you see."

"More inappropriate than killing her?" Severus asked, falling back on sarcasm.

"Oh yes. The board of governors is like a bunch of old women. Killing students of the opposite sex is all right, but you can't be caught giving them presents if you want a moment's peace in the rest of your life."

Owena dusted herself off, and repaired a burned patch on her robe with her wand. She then gave a little wave. "Hello Millicent. I'm Owena."

"Hi," said Millicent automatically. It was her favorite word and as such nearly irresistible. Speculation was rampant among the students that if she met Sirius Black or even Voldemort himself she would say exactly that. They were probably right, too.

"Is there anything else you wanted?" Severus asked, not willing to show that he was grateful for the distraction.

"Yes, in fact. I finally got Flourish to give it up," she said in irritation as she handed over a slender, ancient volume. "It's the only known account of soul-stealing. The only one that we know is true, anyway."

The cover, as with most ancient books, had no title printed on it. So Severus opened it very carefully and turned the extremely thin pages to the title page. _Stolen: Sister Angelica's Lost Soul_ read the title. As he looked at it, the letters blurred and changed to read, _Her life during the theft and after the return_.

"I'm going to take Millicent up to Lana, and then give Dumbledore a note from Fudge- why the man can't take it himself- and pop over to ask Flitwick if he's finished with that book I lent him. Send your raven for me when you've finished, won't you?"

And then, having taken Millicent by the hand, Owena gave him a nod and left. Clearly, she had not intended to give him room to avoid reading the account. He looked again at the title, then turned the page. Being a magical text, the words were perfectly clear in spite of the fact that they had been printed more than five hundred years previously.

When he finished, it was nearly time for supper. He laid the book with care on his desk. Owena had told him to send his raven, which was ridiculous. She was still in the castle. With this thought in mind, he set off to find her. Most likely he would find her in Gryffindor Tower, with the Gryffindor army.


	24. Forgiveness

A/N: It's OVER! There will be a sequel to this arc, but it won't be about Millicent and it will not be canon!

Crowding close to the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lana were listening in fascination to Owena's every word. Lana had said previously that her aunt knew everything, and it was rapidly becoming clear that this was true. She had an answer to every question they could muster. Not only that, her answers made sense.

"So what happened to Millicent's hair?" Ron had asked to open the questioning. Owena had her answer ready.

"Well, as you might already know, Ravena was involved in a potions accident when she was just a first year. It was quite an embarrassment for Slughorn, actually. It was their very first day of class, and the whole class was making a hair dye potion. Different ingredients for different colors and all that nonsense. Then they swapped results and drank them. The boy Ravena was partnered with made a teensy measuring mistake, and instead of lasting for 25 seconds, her hair stayed green for more than an hour.

"When it became clear that it would last for more than 25 days and it could not by dyed over, Slughorn finally asked the boy about his measurement. He had added enough for the dye to last for twenty-five years."

Owena laughed, "Sirius was never very good at potions and Slughorn watched him much more closely after that. When Millicent was born, her hair was black. I do have Lupin's word that when she was five years old her hair was that aqua color you have all seen.

"So, what happened? Well, magic did. The dye was magical, and its duration was longer than Ravena would be alive. So it hopped a ride on Millicent's head. Though I should point out it will be gone in another three years. The aqua was a result of Millicent going gray due to the soul-stealing."

"Does that always happen? Green hair turning aqua?" Lana asked, curious.

"No. Millicent has a drop of fae blood, you see. Hence her unusual eye color. The other effect is that, most of the time, her features will color themselves to display her to her best advantage. The fae are terribly vain, you know."

Ron then asked his next nagging question, "How come Millicent couldn't kill Harry-"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "I already told you it wasn't her!"

"She's got you there," Lana said, looking past him to the girl in question, who was sitting on the couch with her new bunny and magic mirrors.

"Yes, Hermione is correct. It was Lucius casting the spell through her. Or rather, Lucius trying and failing to complete the spell. Like the Crucio and Imperio spells, you must want them to work."

The mental activity clearly visible on his face, Ron took a moment to digest this. "But, Lucius had control of her, right? So he should have wanted it a lot."

Snorting, Hermione tossed her head to signify her utter disgust at his lack of comprehension. "I have said it before: Lucius was too far away and Millicent still had some control over her soul, and therefore her actions. Which is why Harry wasn't killed!"

"And I'm very glad about it!" Ron snapped. "But I don't get how that wouldn't work. We all know Lucius would love to see Harry dead."

"I have an idea about that," Owena said calmly, as though people sniped at each other in front of her all the time, which indeed they did. "Lucius had another plan going at the same time. His concentration was spilt, and strained already by the distance. So even though he was very concentrated on killing Harry through Millicent, some of his attention was still focused on getting revenge on Dumbledore and the Weasley's with Tom Riddle's diary."

Harry, with a glance toward the couch where Millicent was thoroughly engrossed in Fred and George's magic mirrors, lowered his voice and asked, "Does she remember us at all?"

A look of sadness descended over Owena's usually pleasant face. "She won't remember a thing, Harry. Just before the start of term next year, she'll be back to her proper age, and she won't know any of you. Her mind couldn't possibly handle it, you see."

"Wait, she's going to just pop back to her regular age?" Ron asked in amazement. "That can't be right."

"Soul-stealing is an ancient magic, Ronald," and Ron winced at the use of his full name, "It is nothing like modern magic that has learned to be tamer, gentler. Like the Unspeakables, soul-stealing has no regard for the health and comfort of the individual."

"She really won't remember anything?" questioned Hermione sadly.

"She'll remember nothing past the day Lucius stole her soul for the first time. I've already told Dumbledore to make the proper arrangements with St. Mungo's. She will be a *toddler in a thirteen-year-old's body," Owena told the astounded teens. "She can't possibly stay here while she masters that body. Hogwarts is a lot of things, but not a long-term care facility."

"How long-" began Lana, but her aunt held up a hand.

"It's no use torturing yourselves over what can't be changed. Enjoy her while you have her is my advice. Now Lana, you go ahead and tell the others how your mother betrayed you and got you bumped up a year."

"Why did you have to go and mention that?" groaned Lana crossly. "I had almost forgiven her, you know."

"Wait, what does she mean, your mum betrayed you?" Ron demanded. Lana pulled at her hair in exasperation.

"Oh, fine. Mum's been sending me to summer camp. You know, three months to learn what you would in a year. She sent me the summer before last, and I was supposed to tell Dumbledore, but I forgot-"

Owena snorted. "Yes, you forgot so much you burned her letter."

"Well, who wants to skip a whole year at the first go?" Lana demanded. "Anyway, I went last summer and the counselor told my mum I really ought to skip a year at Hogwarts, or else I'd just dink about and not do anything worthwhile. And that's not true, 'cause I would have done the homework and the class work too!"

"Of course you would have," Hermione said indignantly. "Who doesn't?"

Harry and Ron both found themselves supremely interested in the ceiling as Lana continued with her tale of woe. "So my mum wrote Dumbledore and didn't tell me anything about it before she saw me off at Hogwarts. I had no idea until right before the Feast! It was awful! AND she swears that I am going to camp again this summer to study fourth year stuff because she wants me to take my O.W.L.s next year! I am deeply unmoved by her gifts now!"

Lana threw herself backwards on the rug in despair. While clearly sympathetic, Hermione was also obviously calculating the possibility of getting herself into such a camp. Harry and Ron were more genuinely compassionate, offering token comments about bad luck.

Meanwhile, Owena was chuckling. "I know you don't like it, but if you really want to go with your parents to the Wizarding Conference you have to do it."

"I do want to go," grumbled Lana. "I just don't want to rush my bloody O.W.L.s"

"Why do you need to take the O.W.L.s to go?" asked Harry, curiously.

"Because the poxy security screens out minors- and a minor means anyone who doesn't have any O.W.L.s, unless you get special permission- which mum won't get for me even though she can!"

"She really ought to," Owena agreed. "You're interested enough to make it worthwhile to see your face when they spend twelve hours arguing over the inclusion of venison on the menu."

"Thank you for the support," Lana muttered.

"How do you get in such a camp?" Hermione asked. Shaking her head, Owena replied,

"I know what you're thinking, but you can't get in one. Firstly, they're more for children of ambassadors and other traveling wizards who may have to pull their children out of school with little to no notice. And second, disgustingly, they still require that both your parents have magic. Their excuse is that wizarding parents make less fuss about accidents of a magical nature, but it's really just a way to keep purebloods ahead of halfbloods and muggleborn."

There was silence as the Golden Trio pondered the truth of Owena's words and Lana went over to check on Millicent. She put a blanket over Millicent, who was yawning hugely, and then rejoined the other teens. Finally, Ron came up with yet another question, seeing as how Owena did not seem to mind answering all of them.

"Millicent's last name is awfully weird, isn't it? I don't think I know anybody else named Ri."

"You wouldn't," Owena said dryly, "Seeing as how they are all dead. Ravena took her second husband's name, but she gave Snape the choice of Millicent's last name. He chose Ravena's maiden name. The Ri's were a very old family, but their name was actually Rivens about forty years ago."

"What happened?" asked Harry, genuinely curious.

"Well, embarrassingly enough, the Ministry was at fault. There is a room called the Room of Records, and in it we keep- you guessed it- all our records on magical happenings and witches and wizards. You can find records of births and deaths, as well as misuse of magic and reports written by Aurors about magical accidents. In fact, we hardly write any of it, since we have bespelled special quills for the express purpose of recording these things.

"Once the ink was dry on a form of any kind, it was considered record. Remember now, that thirty years ago we did not yet have self-filling inkwells. So there was an inker whose duty it was to check the wells every hour or so, and also to check the condition of the quills."

"Sounds like ruddy boring job," Ron commented. Owena smiled.

"Everyone at the Ministry used to take a turn at it when they first joined. You'll be happy to hear that is no longer the case. To continue: At this time, the inker was a young man named Blotts. Yes, Hermione, Blotts of Flourish and Blotts. The trouble with Blotts was, and still is, that he was a bit lazy. He knew that the quills on an average day took an hour and half to completely empty a well, so why not take an extra fifteen minutes before going in?

"But what if they were filling out a lot of forms?" asked Harry in dismay, clearly foreseeing the disaster.

"That is exactly what happened. There were an unusual number of births that autumn day. Seven live births, and sadly one stillborn. But all had to be recorded. Mrs. Rivens was the last and she gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. So the birth certificates were being filled in by the quills- two to a form for efficiency's sake- when all of the inkwells went dry. And wouldn't you know it? The quills had all been stopped only partway through 'Rivens.' The twins were Ri, and the mother and father were Ri and Riv, respectively.

"When Blotts strolled in ten minutes later, the ink was already dry. The Rivens came in as soon as they realized what had happened, but then, strangely, they became rather attached to the 'newness' of the name Ri, and then kept it. Of course they were eccentric, but most pureblood families get that way after a bit."

"You mean Millicent has an uncle?" Hermione asked.

"Oh no. He died before she was born. Got himself eaten by a dragon. Royal was forever waving things about while he talked, and unfortunately that time he was waving around a piece of raw meat he was supposed to be giving the dogs. Terrible tragedy. And you know, none of the stationary stores had a suitable card? Fifty years ago, a 'Sorry Your Brother Got Eaten by a Dragon' card was only fifty pence."

"It's lucky I don't have a brother then," Lana said cheerfully. Before the others could give her more than half of a confused look, the portrait swung open to reveal Professor Snape. He looked less out of place than any of the Gryffindors would have expected, with his less tense face and the color of the firelight obscuring the sallowness of his face.

He said nothing, but went to the couch where Millicent was curled up with her bunny. Hagrid's gift was effectively crushed beneath her little body, held fast by her right arm. Snape picked up the mirrors and stowed them in a pocket of his robe. With a gentleness that always amazed Harry, the professor slipped his arms under his daughter and lifted her to his chest. He gave Lana a short nod, and made a half bow to Owena, then left.

"Wha?" said the bewildered Ron. Owena gave him a wise smile.

"Never you mind him. He's just coming to terms with his baby."

"Does he know?" asked Lana quietly.

"Yes, dear. I gave him the book I told you about the other day."

The teens sat somberly looking into the flames. If Sirius Black had burst into the common room, he would not have made much of an impression. They were thinking about how awful it was that after everything Millicent had been through, she was not going to be able to remember any of it. Not the sorrow, which had been great and terrible, nor the joy that she could have had at learning that her father had really cared underneath all his anger.

"It isn't fair," Ron said at last.

"One of the many things terrible adults will tell you, Ronald, is that life is not fair," Owena told him. "But one thing life does do, and has done since the beginning of time, is balance. For all Millicent has suffered, she will eventually have a reward. And for all that she forgets, there will be more that she remembers.

"Now I hear you play a mean game of chess. Why don't you bring out your set and stop being so maudlin? I'll play you. "

"You're doomed," Lana said to Ron cheerfully. "Get your set Harry, and I'll play you. Hermione can help you, since I have the unfair advantage of being pummeled by Owena since I was five."

And the group became a bit less tense. For the few hours left before bed, they managed to lay aside their worries for the future. Owena creamed Ron, much to his amazement and Harry's secret delight. However, even the combined efforts of The Boy Who Lived and Hermione were no match for Lana's experience and his chessmen berated him soundly for letting her men capture them one by one.

As Owena kissed Lana goodbye, the others went up to the dormitory. It had not, all-in-all, be a bad Christmas, Harry thought. Even with the horrible revelation about Millicent's future, there was still cause for hope. Millicent was brilliant, just like Hermione. Surely she would catch up and be back at Hogwarts for fifth year.

He laid his dressing gown on his chair and was pulling back the covers when Ron said unexpectedly,

"I made a mistake, didn't I?"

"What, in the chess game?" asked Harry.

"No. With Millicent. I was bloody mean to her all the time."

"You didn't know," Harry began awkwardly.

"That's no excuse, is it? I mean, 'Mione and Lana didn't know either, but they were nice to her all the time. You too. I'm just a bloody jerk."

Ron threw himself down on his bed petulantly. Harry did not know what to say. Unfortunately, Ron's diatribe was perfectly reasonable. Ron had been nasty to Millicent, even after Harry had pointedly forgiven her.

"And the worst bit?" Ron moaned. "I can't even say I'm sorry, 'cause she'll have no idea what I'm going on about!"

"Why don't you just tell her anyway?" Harry said with a burst of inspiration. "Owena never said she didn't remember us now!"

"Blimey! You're right! Then I'm going to tell her first thing tomorrow. I've been a jerk, but I know it wasn't right and that's what I'll say." Content once more, Ron pulled up his covers and went right to sleep.

Harry stayed awake a bit longer, thinking more about his Firebolt than about Millicent. He even spared a charitable thought for Hermione who was trying to protect him, though he resolved firmly to remain angry at her for a while to show her she had done wrong. His last thought was about the little girl, though. It was a wonder, he mused, with everything that had happened she had gotten her smile back. Surely that was what Owena meant by balance.

Millicent was having a very good time at the party. Even though she was not sure what was going on, having lots of goodies was always welcome. The party had something to do with Harry and Gred and Forge- or were they Fred and George? In any case, all the big kids were happily staying up very late.

She was, therefore, quite disappointed when Lana made her brush teeth and say goodnight to everyone. Sleeping was impossible with the amount of noise coming from the common room, but there was no arguing with the intractable Lana. She did get a version of her favorite story that was either the best or the most peculiar she had ever had. Since everyone seemed to know the story by heart, they had acted it out instead of reading it to her. Millicent was pretty sure that George was the wrong person to play the sleeping princess, but Lana had made a very good Potions Master.

After being tucked into a little trundle bed set up next to Lana's bed just for overnights, Millicent tried her best to settle down. The noise from downstairs was so loud she could make out what everyone was saying. There was no possible way to sleep through it, since it contained both a steady roar of voices and the occasional bang.

Millicent was surprised when she noticed that Lana was not sleeping either. Instead Lana kept turning over under the covers, and then throwing them off only to put them back on a minute later, Without a doubt, it was the strangest behavior Lana had ever exhibited.

When the other girls came up to the dormitory, Lavender and Hermione noticed it at once. They also noticed something Millicent had not.

"You're burning up, Lana," said Hermione. "You had best go see Madam Pomfrey."

"That's right," Lavender told Lana. "No point in getting sicker."

"But, what about Millicent?" Lana asked. Hearing her name, Millicent sat up and beamed. With a frown, Hermione started to say something.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Lavender said, cutting off Hermione. "I can watch her; no problem."

Noting Hermione's mighty frown, Lana seemed about to object. Then she clapped a hand to her mouth and bolted from the bed to the bathroom. Millicent wondered about that. When Lana returned, she just gave a wave to the others and headed right down to the common room.

"I wonder what she ate," Paravati remarked thoughtfully.

"It could have been anything," Lavender said wisely. Hermione merely rolled her eyes before heading into the bathroom with her toothbrush.

Not more than an hour later, a commotion woke Millicent and all the other girls. They looked around in confusion and muttered questions that none of them knew the answers to. Hopping out of her trundle bed, Millicent pulled on her silver dressing gown and looked at Lavender expectantly. Dazed from too little sleep, Lavender got up and pulled on her own dressing gown. They joined a few of the other girls and went to see what the excitement was about.

Ron was the center of the excitement, arguing fiercely with Percy and the twins. Apparently they did not believe him, and Millicent sympathized. Big kids never believed little kids. They were being very loud, and she was not surprised when McGonagall opened the portrait hole.

The open portrait gave Millicent an idea. She would go and see Lana. Sick people loved visitors! So while Lavender was busy murmuring with the other girls, Millicent climbed up and over the portrait hole. Sir Cadogen did not bother to shout funny things after her. Maybe he had not seen her. With a giggle, she decided to keep out of sight just like her daddy did when he was following naughty big kids.

McGonagall came out to question Sir Cadogen, but since she had no idea Millicent was out, she overlooked her in the shadows. The knight talked to her in his usual funny way, something about Sirius Black. When the professor had gone back inside, Millicent wandered off in what she assumed was the direction of the Infirmary and, therefore, Lana.

Since she generally was carried everywhere, Millicent had an unsurprisingly poor sense of where things were in the castle. She wandered down several sets of stairs and talked to some of the portraits who were not sleeping, usually forgetting that she meant to ask them where the Infirmary was. Once she considered a conversation finished, she would continue on what she presumed was the path to the Infirmary. There was a lot of stairs between her and it, she noticed. And they all went down. She would get there eventually though.

Crushed by the humiliation he had suffered that day, Draco could not sleep. When the clock struck half past one in the morning, he gave up trying. Pulling on his robes, he left the boys dormitory without bothering to wake Crabbe and Goyle. If he wanted to be caught before he even got to the common room, he might as well cast Lumos in the face of a prefect.

He knew he was not allowed out, but he also knew that no one would be patrolling the halls at this hour. He needed to walk and clear his head. With this aim in mind, he slipped through the hole in the wall. The best thing about it was that it could not possibly tell on him.

Running a hand through his blonde hair, already rumpled from his restlessness, Draco started to walk and think. These late night walks had not yet solved his problem, but they did soothe his conscience enough for him to sleep. Of course he could not confide his problem to anyone, seeing as how every person in his house would use it against him and his parents would be outraged that he even bothered to worry about such a thing.

Millicent was his worry. Even though she was cured- if it could be termed thusly- he felt guilty. He could have helped her, saved her even. Hadn't he known her since he was six years old? She was so vulnerable now, and if what his father wrote to him was true, very soon she would forget him. That was the worst part of all this mess.

Because she was the only person who knew him wholly. Every fear, every hope, every tear he had ever cried, and every genuine smile; she had been there for all of them. And he could have saved her. It would not have been so hard to send an anonymous letter to the ministry, telling them where she was. But, like with his mother, he had kept his mouth shut and went on his way. He had chosen his father over her and he knew without a doubt that that was the stupidest choice he could make.

As he turned the corner, silently berating his cowardice and need to have his father's approval for everything, Draco nearly tripped over the object of his thoughts. Millicent looked up at him and gave him a brilliant smile, the likes of which he had not seen since he was six. Stunned, Draco stood still as she walked right past him with a wave, and then his brain caught up on events.

"Millicent, what are you doing here?" he demanded, having turned around and caught up to her.

"I'm going to see Lana!" she said happily. Draco scowled at the mention of the usurper.

"What is she doing down here? She's not supposed to be here at all, let alone at this hour."

"Lana is sick. She went to the nurse," Millicent said. "I am visiting!"

Draco assessed the situation quickly. Clearly Millicent had gotten away from Lana, which was just the thing he had been waiting for. Maybe now Professor Snape would let him spend some time with Millicent. Of course, he had to do the responsible thing and return her to him first.

"Look here Millicent, you're not supposed to be wandering around at night alone. Let's go see your father, and then he can take you to see Lana." And he would have some very choice words for her, no doubt. A pity that Draco would not get to hear them.

"Okay!" Millicent willingly took his hand. The innocent faith she had in him was like a red-hot knife thrust into his heart. How easily his father must have taken her!

However, when they reached Professor Snape's rooms, they ran into an unexpected obstacle. The wards were up. Draco frowned at the doorknob that he could not touch without a terrible buzzing sensation. If the wards were up, that meant Snape was not here. But why would he be out at this time of night?

"He isn't in," Draco told Millicent at last. "So we'll just sit and wait for him, okay?"

"Yes," Millicent said, her absolute confidence in him making him feel all the more guilty. And how irrational that was! It was not like he meant her any harm.

After more than fifteen minutes waiting, Draco gave in and sat down on the cold dungeon floor. Millicent wandered back and forth for a bit longer, and then she did something he had not expected. She climbed into his lap and snuggled against him with a contented sigh. In moments, the carefully constructed dam burst.

"Draco is sad?" Millicent asked him anxiously. He scrubbed at his tears ineffectually.

"No, I'm fine." Her look of doubt made him give in. "Okay, yeah, I'm sad."

"Why?" Millicent asked, using the staple of toddlers the world over.

"I-Look, I miss you, Millicent. And I mean the you I got to know before. The girl who listened to me and didn't ever judge me. And you were always there when I needed someone, always. But I know I can't ever have you back."

"Why?" she asked again.

"Be-because you're going to forget me. You're going to forget everyone, except your dad. And I won't have anybody. I mean," he carried on, forgetting that she probably did not understand a word he was saying, "You have your dad. And Lana and probably Potter too, because he has to butt in. But my parents- my mother just wants me to be quiet and not get in trouble and she doesn't want me to tell anyone that my father beats her- I've seen it. It's horrible, Millicent. How can he do that to her? Is he going to do that to me?

"And all he ever wants is for me to make trouble. He wants me to get Potter in trouble, but I don't have to do anything there, really; he does it to himself half the time. And he wants me to be nasty to Hermione, because she's not pureblood, but the only thing wrong with her is that she's a know-it-all and not very pretty. I mean, if she were a pureblood, he'd be setting up the marriage!"

Draco paused. It was possible this was a bad idea. But he could not hold back his feelings any longer. Millicent had always had this effect on him, especially when she looked up at him with her bright aqua eyes. However, he did lower his voice to just above a whisper.

"They don't care about me, Millicent. I keep coming back to that. When I was little, my mother would always make the house elves watch me and my father could not be bothered to see me until I could talk. In all my baby pictures, I'm alone. Oh, they did the family portrait, but that was for show. And I live my life trying to please them, but I don't know if that's even possible."

He took a shaky breath. "And I gave you up to please father. I shouldn't have done that. It's you who has kept me going. You listen. You're the only one who listens. I-I love you, Millicent. I know I can't ever be with you, but there you have it. What kind of idiot am I? I love you and I betrayed you."

Millicent had listened so intently, he could almost believe that she had understood his rant. When he finished, he wiped his tears again, hoping they would subside shortly. This was not the way he wanted Snape to find him. Then Millicent laid a hand on his shoulder and said in a touching, sincere tone,

"It'll be okay."

Draco stared at her through his tears. "D-do you. . ?"

"I forgive you," she said with a sweet, heartfelt smile. And then she hugged him, with her tiny arms. He held her too, trying to have faith in her words. For six years he had known that he could trust her every word, so why should now be any different? Even if she forgot him, he had her forgiveness.


End file.
